Liberty Online: Imprisoned in Heaven
by C.K. Bachman
Summary: It is the largest prison in the world. 10,000 players are trapped in Aincrad. Everyone says they want out. But who is sabotaging the front line?— Killer is on the run. He has a dilemma: he can stay imprisoned in Aincrad or face execution in real life. On the tenth floor, he receives a mysterious message from a PK player. Will he join or oppose the front line? Note: Erotic elements
1. Prologue: The Largest Prison

**Liberty Online: Imprisoned in Heaven**

 **Prologue**

 **Charlotte**

She sat on top of him, her hips grinding against his. She bit his ear and moaned his name. Their bodies were pressed together, drenched in sweat, their movements in sync. Underneath them, the bed groaned and squeaked.

The man let out a final groan and collapsed onto the bed. She lay on top of him for a little while, then got off with an unsatisfied sigh. Her naked body silhouetted against the lights of the largest city on Earth, she stood before the window, gazing out upon the millions of people, each of them appearing smaller than an ant. Every dot moved frantically. They all had somewhere to go, somewhere to be, something to do. She wondered if any of them were happy, if any one had a choice. She frowned and smiled cynically.

She turned on the TV and flipped though the channels, nothing capturing her attention.

She stopped.

It was a commercial.

"This is the next step in gaming! Sword Art Online! This first and only game that will transport you to a different world!"

The commercial then showed in-game footage of people battling inside the world of Aincrad.

"Pre-order now!"

* * *

 **The Largest Prison in the World**

It is the largest prison in the world.

On November 6, 2022, 10,000 people were imprisoned inside the world of Aincrad.

It was not meant to be a prison; it was proclaimed as one of the greatest leaps in consumer-grade technology since the original Virtual Reality headgear sets went on sale nearly eight years before.

Samsung, Facebook and Apple all tried their hand at Virtual Reality. All of them failed. It was a small company by the name of Argus that finally managed to find the holy grail. Their FullDive technology (patent pending) was to Virtual Reality what the iPhone was to smartphones; it changed what consumers could expect and leapfrogged the competition by nigh a decade.

The FullDive technology was the first to be fully immersive. People could use it by wearing a helmet called the NerveGear which intercepted the sensory signals the brain received from the body and replaced them with its own information. Sight, touch, smell and even movement could be done through the NerveGear.

Argus became one of the world's largest companies. Millionaires were created overnight. The FullDive technology could be implemented in military training, advanced surgeries impossible with human hands, therapy, education and countless other things.

However for their first mass-market consumer product, Argus decided to apply their technology to video games.

The game that would become playable on the NerveGear was called Sword Art Online.

It was a trap.

Only 10,000 copies of the game were made available on launch day. However when the players logged into the game, they found that there was no log-out button; there was no way to disconnect from the NerveGear and resume control of the physical body in the real world.

They then received a welcoming message from the creator of Sword Art Online.

Welcome to Aincrad, he said. The inability to log out is not a fault in the game, but its greatest feature. Aincrad will be your home. You will wake in Aincrad, eat in Aincrad and breathe in Aincrad.

He then handed out a single task: struggle for your freedom. The only way to escape from this game was to conquer all 100 floors.

However if one were to die in the game, one will also die in the real world. When your health points reach zero, the NerveGear will destroy the brain.

People thought of it as a joke at first.

The hours passed and cheerful laughter carried an anxious edge.

Days passed. Despair descended.

* * *

I laughed.

It wasn't so bad—was it?

 _Do you really wish to join that world filled with misery, greed, stress and frustrated people? A world where only money measures the worth of a life?_

 _Are we trapped…or are they?_


	2. A Dead Man

**Chapter 1**

 **– A Dead Man –**

 _I just wanted to save Lily..._

Killer was about to die. Inside the dungeon on the tenth floor, he lay motionlessly on the floor. His blade—the Spring Rise—was several feet away, too far for him to grasp. He could not move his head nor any of his limbs. He could hear the shrill scraping of the Minotaur's ax against the stone floor as it approached him for the kill.

This solo player had made one mistake; he had allowed himself to get caught in a monster's stun effect and now there was no one to save him.

"Heh," he frowned. _What a meaningless way to die…maybe it's what I deserve._

He could hear the moaning of the Minotaur. He twisted his lips and cursed with bitter frustration. He cursed himself. He cursed his enemies. He cursed everything that existed in this world and the next. And in between all the vile cursing, did he pray—pray to whom, he did not know—for Lily.

None of this was real; the dungeon he lay in, the blade that should have been protecting him, the monster that was about to kill him. Not even his body was real. Inside this virtual world—this prison of heaven—everything felt real, but it was nothing but an illusion created by the most advanced consumer-grade virtual reality simulator—the NerveGear.

Three months ago, he found himself trapped in this virtual world along with 10,000 other players. Two thousand of these players died in the first month. He felt no sympathy for them; they were fools who were eager to go out into the new world and were careless. They relied on knowledge of the beta version of Sword Art Online and were not prepared for the changes in the retail version of the game.

These two thousand players had forgotten what it was like to feel afraid. Fear kept you vigilant. Fear kept you alive.

Those who studied the information from the beta test and fought with prudence stayed alive. But this knowledge ran out at the ninth floor. Even during the beta test, no one had managed to breach the tenth floor. And now the tenth floor was about to see its first casualty.

From the first to the ninth floor, only boss monsters—the final challenge between the different floors—were able to deal paralyzing stun effects with their attacks; but now on the tenth floor, regular dungeon monsters had this ability too.

Killer had been careless; he had been foolish.

 _And now I will die for my mistake._

He could now see the monster; it stood right above him. The Minotaur stamped the floor with its hooves and neighed. In its right hand, its ax gleamed in the candlelight which illuminated the dungeon. Its left hand was covered by a steel glove with iron spikes at its knuckles.

The Minotaur was controlled by an algorithm and that algorithm did not ask for any final words. It raised its ax and sunk it into Killer's body.

He felt a numbing chill. He glanced up, at the upper left corner of his vision and he could see his player name—Killer—along with the Stun status symbol and his health bar. It was now seventy percent full.

He wept. When was the last time he allowed himself to cry like a newborn—to give into his unsightly weakness? He could not remember. It appeared as though he writhed in agony—the agony of dying—but it was not his own life which he thought of.

 _Will she be able to take care of herself?_

Sixty percent.

He could not even send out an SOS distress call; he had no one registered on his friends list and therefore had no one to send anything to.

 _Will she eat properly?_

The Minotaur brought down his ax on Killer's body again.

Fifty percent.

He did not cry out for help. No miraculous savior had ever come to his aid real life—why would anyone come now?

He did not pray for mercy. If there was a God, he did not think that God would allow Lily to suffer so much. And if such a God existed, then he refused to pray to this God.

Regret stormed his heart and formed more tears. What was he regretting? He wasn't even sure himself. He thought of his younger years, when he still had intrepid dreams and his hands were untainted, a time when he could go to sleep without a frown on his brows.

 _Will she sleep at bed time?_

Forty percent.

 _Will she remember to wear extra layers in the winter?_

Thirty percent.

 _She still needs me._

Twenty percent.

Killer gritted his teeth and with all his might, he struggled to move his body even though he knew that it would all be in vain. He cried out savagely, his eyes flashing with burning obstinacy. His body refused to move as though an invisible hand was holding him down—the rules of the game.

Ten percent.

 _I can't die here._

The Minotaur raised his ax one more time, but before he could strike, a purple flash blinded Killer's sight. There was the sound of metal clashing and the deep moan of the Minotaur as it dissolved into a thousand glass shards.

"It would be a shame to let you die like that."

It was a woman's voice. He felt weak and could only open his eyes halfway, but with his hazy vision did he see a dark purple breastplate armor paired with an uneven purple skirt.

"Aren't you a handsome one," she purred. Her voice was smooth as velvet and without opening his eyes, he could hear an amused smile on her lips.

She sat on his waist and fed him a potion. He watched as his health bar returned to a hundred percent and his stun status vanished.

"Huh," he murmured. It was a combination potion that could cure more than one ailment; it was a rare monster drop and if it was self-made, then it required a high level potion skill.

Killer swallowed. He could feel her soft thighs straddling him, her gentle weight pressed against him.

"Why do you look so miserable," she chuckled and he felt her hand on his cheek. "You are alive and free, aren't you? Smile, boy."

Suddenly, she pulled her hand away.

"Here they come, I better go."

In a flash, she vanished and Killer felt lighter. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. It took a few moments for his vision to return to normal, but he did not need to see to know why his rescuer had decided to go. In the near distance, he could hear the sound of many footsteps. He picked up his Spring Rise blade, but simply slid it back into its sheath. Whoever was coming, he knew that they were not a threat he could fight.

The sound of marching footsteps grew closer until he could eventually discern in the candle light illumination stark outlines of heavy armor sets. It was a group that consisted of ten men, each wearing the same armor: steel breastplate with a kite shield, long sword and a helmet that covered half the face. This kind of equipment was designed to take damage from monsters while also being able to deal out significant damage with the sword; however all this armor caused each man to move with a drag in each step.

On their chest plate, he could see a lion head insignia etched onto it; the symbol of the Aincrad Liberation Squad, currently the largest guild in the game.

Killer greeted them with a wordless wave as they approached. They didn't wave back.

Among the identical suits of armor was a man who had a shield with golden trimmed edges. He was a head taller than the others and carried confidence in his step. He was the one who approached Killer.

"Greetings to you," he said roughly. "What are you doing in this dungeon?"

What a strange question, Killer thought. "I'm mapping out the dungeon and training."

"You mean you are level grinding, collecting monster drops and opening chests."

"That is what I meant."

"Well," he put down his kite shield and stretched out his hand, "then please surrender the items and col you have found in the dungeon."

It took a moment for Killer to understand what this man meant. Col? Right, that was the term for money in this game. And what did he mean by surrendering his items?

Killer stared at his hand. He then finally understood; this man wanted all the items and money he had found in the tenth floor dungeon.

He glanced left and right. His armored men stood in a semi circle around him, blocking the way to the exit.

"Why should I give you my items and col?" Killer raised an eyebrow. "What's mine is mine."

"Fool!" the man bellowed and his voice rose with righteous indignation. "We are the Aincrad Liberation Squad! We fight for the freedom of all the players in Aincrad. We are the leading guild of the front line. The dungeons have the best item rewards and we need all of them in order to continue pushing the front line! It is your duty to surrender your gains for the good of all the players in this game!"

Killer sniffed at his words and turned to walk past the man, towards the exit.

"Hold it!" the man grabbed his shoulder. Killer could feel the cold steel of his metal glove. "You are a solo player, aren't you?" His men sneered with contempt.

"What's it to you?"

"Bah! Solo players," he spat. "I've never seen you at any of the boss fights either."

"Whatever you have to say, hurry up."

"You must hand over your items," the man commanded. "You solo players always rush into the newest areas of the floor and ransack all the chests and level grinding spots. And now—you!— " he pointed at Killer, "you don't even contribute to the progress of the front line!"

"I'm sorry that you large guilds move so slowly," Killer shrugged, his cool voice laced with growing irritation. "But that has got nothing to do with me."

"We are the guild working to free all the players!" the man cried. "As the senior commander of the leading guild, I order you to surrender your items!"

Killer stepped past him without looking back and the man grabbed his shoulder again.

"You are not allowed to leave."

"Ho?" Killer reached for his Spring Rise.

"I'm sorry, but we cannot tolerate selfish solo-players like you. Every day spent in this prison is a day lost in the real world and you are causing the progress of the front line to slow down. I will have to ask you to give me your name and in addition to your items."

Killer drew his Spring Rise and in a flash, the members of the Aincrad Liberation Squad followed suit.

"Stand down!" The leader grabbed his golden kite shield and drew his blade. "Drop your weapon! Now!"

"That is enough."

It was a woman's voice that cut the tension in the air. "Seinfield, let him go."

Killer turned to see who had emerged from the vanguard of the troop. He raised both eyebrows; she had long flowing blonde hair, wore a dark red leather skirt with steel plates stitched to its sides and a long red scarf wrapped around her neck. Around her waist he could see a curved blade—a scimitar.

"Every player has the right to explore the dungeon—provided he can survive."

Killer felt the man's, Seinfield, acid gaze on him.

"Seinfield, please escort him to the dungeon exit."

"Yes, Miss Anna."

He gave Killer a push that almost caused him to fall, but Killer ignored his provocation. H e strode ahead, ignoring his escort.

"You are lucky that it was Miss Anna," the man growled behind Killer. "If it was the Iron Maiden...heh, she would have no mercy on you."

"Miss Anna...is that Anna the Red?"

"Hah! So even a useless solo player like you has heard of her greatness? Yes, that is indeed Anna the Red."

Killer could hear his voice growing with pride. He continued: "Anna the Red is the star of the Aincrad Liberation Squad. Her signature red scarf is what gave her the name, I believe."

"Is she strong?"

"What impertinence!" the man bellowed, but he took a deep breath. "Anna the Red would easily beat you in a duel."

"Did she beat you?"

Seinfield sucked in a sharp breath and didn't answer.

"Heh." Killer smiled mockingly. He got the answer he wanted.

When they got to the exit, he and Seinfield stood there in silence for a moment. Finally, Killer asked: "Compared to the other front line players, how does she stack up?"

"How rude of you," Seinfield sniffed, but then he continue with pride in his voice. "I believe she is second only to Asuna the Flash."

* * *

Killer stepped out of the dungeon and was embraced by the sweet scent of the forest. There was no moon in the sky, and yet a sourceless silver light illuminated the forest. He took a deep breath; he had already decided: tomorrow he would allow himself to rest for a day and stay in the safe zone of the town.

It was early spring and the gentle evening breeze carried a balmy chill. He stepped into the shadows of the forest.

The glow of the stars. The rustling of the leaves as the branches soughed. The hooting of an owl.

Killer came to a stop and smashed his fist against a tree. He was seething with rage. He was angry at himself for making such a huge blunder; how could he allow himself to almost die?

He opened his mouth to curse. He froze.

In a flash, Killer drew his blade. There was nothing that had changed, but his instinct told him that there was a source of bloodlust nearby.

He shut his eyes tightly and activated his Search skill. There behind the tree he could see the shape of a person. He turned his head and saw two more shapes behind him. He was surrounded.

"Come out, whoever you are."

There was the sound of movement and weapons being drawn.

"Not bad—not bad at all." A man emerged from the tree before him. He wore a chainmail hood that covered most of his face. His armor was a standard chest plate and silver studded leather trousers; an outfit designed to blend in with the crowd. "Your Search skill must be rather high to see through our Hiding skill."

"What do you want?" Killer asked curtly. His eyes measured the man; he was powerfully built with wide shoulders and his stance signaled arrogance. He must be the leader. The man's armor provided ample protection; but right at his neck—an opening. Killer licked his lips.

"Do you really have to ask?" the leader spoke with a malicious smile. "Give us your col and the items you have gained or else we will kill you."

 _Just like the Aincrad Liberation Squad…_

Disconcerted, Killer glanced left and right again. The two other men stood adjacent to him on both sides. There was no opening in their formation; it would be impossible to run from this situation.

Killer sheaved his Spring Rise.

"Good, you are a smart one," the leader said. "You know that there is no sense in fighting."

"PK groups have started to emerge since around the fifth floor, but they haven't gotten smart about it until around the eight or ninth floor," Killer said. "I commend you for setting up such a meticulous trap."

Startled by his target's friendly tone, the leader was not sure what to say.

"You followed the Aincrad Liberation Squad, did you not?" Killer asked, but he continued before the leader could answer. "Yes, I'm sure you did. You must know about the righteous attitude of that guild and waited for them to flush out the players training in the dungeon. And these players, tired from a day's fighting come out and then they find you. They have no potions left and don't have the mental strength to fight you. And I assume since you can hang around the front line, your levels and stats must be similar to that of other front line players."

"Everything you have said is right," the leader said. "How do you know all of this?"

"I don't know. I just guessed," Killer shrugged. "I would have done the same thing."

"Since you are so smart, you'll have figured out that there is no way out for you. Drop your items and col, and we will let you go."

"I refuse."

"We will kill you."

Killer raised an eyebrow and let out a chilling laugh. "I'm already a dead man."

The leader raised his hand and pointed at him. At this signal, the other two players behind Killer raised their blades and the system detected this motion and activated their Sword Skill.

"Straight Cut, huh," Killer murmured.

"Kill him."

The two players launched their attack and aimed straight at Killer. He did not dodge. He turned sideways and the two blades grazed him, causing his health to drop from a hundred percent to ninety.

"Anneal Blades," Killer noted. These were weapons that had been available as a quest reward on the first floor and if upgraded to the maximum level, could last until the fifth floor. But here on the tenth floor...these weapons were insufficient.

The leader charged his Sword Skill and with a roar, launched his attack. Again, Killer did not dodge and allowed for the attack to scratch him.

"Give it up," the leader said. "You have already lost one-fifth of your hit points."

"Yes, I have," Killer concurred with a malicious chuckle and reached behind his back and drew out two daggers. One-handed swords could not be dual-wielded, but because daggers dealt such low damage, the game system allowed dual-wielding by default. "But look above you."

Confused, the leader shook his head.

"You have turned orange while I have stayed green," Killer pointed at the crystal that hung above every players' head to indicate that he was indeed a live player and not an NPC.

"So what?" the leader spat. "We are not that dumb. I know that we will turn red once we kill you."

"Come at me."

"Bah, there is nothing you can do with those puny daggers of yours—even if you dual-wield them."

He charged his Sword Skill, but just before he was about to launch, did his target disappear. Killer appeared behind him, with a dagger against his throat.

"You see, I read in the manual that a player won't turn orange so long as he was attacked first. The system will recognize my attack as an act of self-defense and my green status won't change."

"How did you— "

"Begone." His voice was stoic and for a moment, the other two players were frozen with fear.

Killer sliced his throat. "You are fortunate," he said. "If this was in the real world, you would be dead. After all, I only aim for the vitals."

The leader dropped to the ground, his body paralyzed by a poison stun status effect.

"How is this possible?" he croaked. "Only boss monsters should be able to deal paralyzing stun effects."

The other two players regained their calm and attacked Killer with a united cry.

"Too slow." He ducked, turned sideways and positioned himself between the two attacking players. He sunk a dagger into their guts and they fell to the ground, paralyzed like their leader.

"You are cheating!" the leader yelled. "No player can deal stun— "

"Shut up," Killer muttered and kicked him in the face.

"Why don't you use Sword Skills?" one of the subordinates asked. "You just dodge and..."

"Sword Skills are too predictable," Killer sniffed. "They are too slow as your speed is limited by how the system allows you to move."

He knelt down next to the subordinate and grabbed his hand. "I have been fighting for my life long before Sword Art Online existed; you who have been sitting in your air-conditioned room...you cannot harm me."

Killed used the subordinate's hand to open the menu window, which appeared floating in the air. Using the player's hand, Killer navigated to the inventory window. "Oh! That's a fine amount of col and upgrade material you have there."

Then guiding the player's hand, he opened the trade window, covered the man's eyes, and transferred all of the player's col and items to his own inventory.

"No! Please! Not all of it!"

Banks did not exist in Aincrad and all the col that a player earned throughout his time in the game was all accumulated in a large stack in his inventory. Killer had taken every coin this subordinate had earned—or stolen—since the beginning of this prison. He then repeated the process with the leader and the second subordinate.

They begged him for mercy, but he only smiled with amused contempt. Without their armor equipment and Anneal Blades, they would be killed by the nighttime monsters before they could reach a safe zone.

"Now, if you cause trouble for anyone else on the front line, I will come and find you...and we can have ourselves a fine duel."

In the quiet of the night, the gust of the night carried with it the sobs of the three players who had lost everything they had fought for since the first floor.

* * *

Killer returned to the main town of the tenth floor: Ellensburgh. It was a city grander and more glorious than any other city he had seen so far in Aincrad. Its streets were paved with marble and the houses were modeled after a mix of French baroque and Portuguese style designs. The houses on the main street were painted in a light creamy gold color with grand white pillars and sculptures detailing the doorway arch. The alleyways of the poor were narrow streets paved with mosaic stones and above, one could see terraces where NPC and player inhabitants lived together.

In terms of size, this city was far smaller than the Town of Beginnings on the first floor, but everything about Ellensburgh signaled prosperity and wealth.

Why was this city so much more glorious than those before it? Killer guessed that it might be that because this was the tenth floor, thus making it the first floor with a double digit number. Perhaps in the floors above, every tenth floor would be a capital city of some sorts.

He reached the teleport plaza. A Roman style fountain with fat angels was in the middle of the plaza with food stalls at the sides. A throng of players sat around the fountain, chatting, eating and exchanging stories and gossip.

His mood had improved and Killer hummed a tune as he bought a fried fish with mashed potatoes and a cup of blue liquid of some sorts (it tasted like strawberry with a hint of lemon) and sat down at the edge of the fountain. He did not talk to anyone and with his chainmail hood pulled to cover his eyes, no one dared to approach him either.

He did not like crowds nor did he ever socialize with anyone in this game—this heavenly prison. Waves of joy and laughter clashed into him, but he was the rock that resisted.

He came here for one reason only. While eating, he pricked his ears for news.

"I heard the Aincrad Liberation Squad began exploring the tenth floor dungeon today."

"Already? That's pretty soon! They probably want to find the boss room before anyone else."

"No one could find the Field boss, so they decided to focus on the main dungeon. Do you think we should go into the dungeon too?"

"There is no point in exploring the dungeon if the ALS have already opened all the chests. We better stick to the outdoor huntings grounds."

"I heard the Iron Maiden is recruiting more people for the ALS."

Laughter. "Yeah, I heard that too, but Anna the Red isn't keen on it."

Killer finished his food and got up. He had heard enough. The ALS was beginning to dominate and was most likely going to lead the next boss fight.

He stood at the teleport gate and murmured: "Town of Beginnings." His body dissolved and moments later, he stood under the rain.

He grumbled a curse and looked up at the dark clouds. How was it possible that Ellensburgh was having a pleasant evening, but the Town of Beginnings was pouring rain?

Thunder roared and the streets were partially flooded. As he walked, Killer spat out water. He glanced left and right; there was no one here but him. The majority of the active player population had moved to the ninth and tenth floors, while only those still waiting for outside rescue sat in the safe zone of the first floor.

 _Pathetic scum_ , Killer thought.

High pitched crying penetrated the rumbling of thunder. Killer stopped.

He followed the sound of the cries into an alleyway and there he saw a tiny roof made out of wood with several crates and barrels acting as walls. He got down to his knees and peered inside; a boy and a girl sat in there, soaked to their bones and shivering.

When they saw Killer, they squirmed and edged closer inside. Killer frowned. Babies always cried when cradled by him and children never dared to make eye contact with him. He couldn't blame them; he had seen himself in the mirror and he saw the embittered gaze of a man who had seen too much suffering in this world and had grown too cynical to do anything about it. His shoulders slumped as though he bore a burden he couldn't carry, but had to walk on regardless for it was his duty.

Children didn't like him, but he liked children. Children could always be trusted; they wore their emotions on their faces.

Killer opened his inventory window and opened a trade window.

"Here, take it," he said.

The boy did not move. He met Killer's gaze. There was a weary kindness underneath all the bitterness and frustration in his eyes.

Hesitant, the boy touched the 'Accept' button and a bag of col appeared in his hand.

"If you eat cheap, then this will last you a month," Killer said roughly. "Take your friend and find a place to sleep tonight."

He got up and walked away. The boy and the girl didn't thank him. Rarely anyone ever thanked him.

* * *

A farm at the edge of the city was his home. Killer had rented the entire upper floor from an NPC even though he didn't need so much space. He had slept on the higher eighth and ninth floor before, and even though those floors offered accommodation with softer beds and better furnishing, he still chose to sleep at his farm house.

One of the reason was that the majority of the player population had moved upwards; here on the first floor he could avoid interacting with other players and keep to himself. Also, rent was cheaper on the first floor.

He climbed the stairs, opened the door and dropped himself into an armchair. He sighed profoundly.

He removed his equipment.

First off was his silver studded leather chest armor. For him it was a perfect choice of armor. The leather chest armor itself was far lighter, less durable and offered less protection than a regular steel chest plate, but upgraded with silver studs, its defense value was similar to a traditional armor plate and it retained its lightness.

His leg protection and gloves were similar. However despite their lightness, his body did feel noticeably lighter after he had removed them.

The centerpiece of his fighting gear was his Spring Rise blade. The Spring Rise was a quest reward he had received on the eighth floor. So far he had seen no one else use this weapon, so he suspected that either no one else had discovered that quest or it might have been a one-off. Killer also wondered if it was part of series; since spring was the first season of the year, perhaps there was a summer, autumn and winter blade somewhere in the game.

It was a beautiful weapon; the steel blade glimmered with a hue of grass green when held up against the sunlight. The crossguard was an oval shape decorated with etchings of daisy flowers. Perfectly balanced. Durable. Light. The perfect one-handed sword.

He had upgraded its Durability and Sharpness to +3. He hoped that it would last him until the fifteenth floor.

But in a way, the Spring Rise was the distraction a magician used to prevent his audience—his opponent—from noticing his true trump card: the pair of daggers strapped to his belt behind his back. They were a pair of daggers he had gotten from a monster drop on the fourth floor. One was pure snow white and the other night black, and were aptly named White and Black.

What the majority of the player population didn't know was that it was possible for players to imitate the paralyzing stun effect dealt by boss monsters by dipping daggers in paralyzation poison. Anyone struck by the daggers was immediately unable to move for a few minutes. Arguably this gave Killer an unfair advantage, but so long as the GMs did not correct this imbalance in the game, then he was willing to exploit it.

With all of his equipment off, he dropped himself onto the straw bed and closed his eyes. He thought of the kids he saw today. Cold. Hungry. Desperate for help.

 _Those kids need to go back to their parents. If they stay for too long in Aincrad, they will forget what is real and what is not._

Why did no one help them? Are all the players too busy pushing the front line? Had they forgotten about those who now need more help than ever?

Killer sneered with contempt at the thought of the front line players. We are fighting to liberate all the players! It is your duty to surrender your items!

"What trash," he murmured. He did not believe that the front line players were selflessly fighting for the freedom of all remaining players. No—far from it. Those who desired power and status in real life sought the same in the virtue world.

 _But those kids...I should have asked for their names. They are about Lily's age._

Killer opened his inventory window and scrolled through the items he got from his dungeon exploration and the PKers in the forest. He had given away the majority of the col to the two children, but there was a long list of upgrade materials he could sell. The PKers had plenty of potions, some interesting armor choices and their maxed out Anneal Blades should be worth a pretty penny.

Just when he was about to close his window and go to sleep, did an envelope icon flash up in his menu window.

He blinked. He had never received a message from anyone in Aincrad before. His friends list was a yawning blank.

It was usually only friends who sent each other messages, and if one wanted to send a message to a stranger, then one needed his player name.

Players usually learned each other's names by fighting in a party together. Killer searched his memory and he was sure that he had never worked together with anyone and had never befriended anyone or even given his name during those rare conversations.

If no one in Aincrad knew his name, then it was impossible for the message to come from a player. It had to come from outside the game.

"No…N-No," Killer murmured quietly, he got up from his bed and paced back and forth with one eye on the message icon.

His breathing became rapid. His hands clenched tightly into fists.

"Maybe…no, it's from them…yes, the outside." His voice trembled with terror.

Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. His eyes were blank.

He ran to the bathroom and threw up his dinner. He collapsed to the bathroom floor, clutching his stomach.

"Have mercy...I beg of you, have mercy."

He touched the mail icon and opened it. He read the message.

* * *

 _To Killer-san_

 _Do you really wish to join that world filled with misery, greed, stress and frustrated people? A world where only money measures the worth of a life?_

 _Are we trapped…or are they?_


	3. A Dead Man's Name

**Chapter 2**

 **A Dead Man's Name**

He stared at the message, his mind reeling.

 _Are we trapped...or are they?_

He read through it several times; his heart was in his throat, his breath rapid.

 _Are we trapped...or are they?_

He focused on the first line of the message.

 _To Killer-san._

Whoever this was, they either only knew his player name or did not want to address him using his real name.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. If this message came from where he feared it might come from, then they wouldn't use his player name; they would use his real name and they wouldn't be asking questions—they'd be making demands.

 _Are we trapped...or are they?_

He opened the information guide he had received on the first floor three months ago and read through the messaging system guide again. There was no doubt about it; one could only send another player a message if they knew their name. The only way to know someone's name was if they had fought in the same party before or had exchanged names through verbal communication .

Killer was sure beyond the shadow of a doubt that he had never given his name to anyone, never befriended anyone and had never worked together with anyone.

No one in Aincrad could message him.

This meant that the message had to come from the outside. But if it came from the outside, then they would use his real name—not his player name.

 _Who on the outside would use my player name?_

An administrator.

Narrowing his eyes, Killer read through the message again.

 _To Killer-san_

 _Do you really wish to join that world filled with misery, greed, stress and frustrated people? A world where only money measures the worth of a life?_

 _Are we trapped…or are they?_

He felt that even though this message was asking him a question, it was framed in such a way that it could only lead to one conclusion: the virtual world of Aincrad was better than the real world.

No. That didn't make sense.

Three months ago, the creator of SAO had made it abundantly clear that he wanted the players to fight to the top floor and earn their freedom. Sending out a message attempting to persuade players to cease their pursuit of liberty was counterintuitive.

His stomach sick with dread, for the first time ever, he hit the reply button. He wrote back.

Who are you?

It was a straightforward question to which he expected a straightforward answer.

A reply came almost instantly.

 _I am Charlotte._

Killer sniffed. _That tells me nothing._ He wrote back.

Are you an administrator? A lawyer? A prosecutor?

 _I am player. Just like everyone else. Just like you._

Killer frowned incredulously. _You know nothing about me._

What do you want from me?

 _I want an answer. Are we trapped or are they?_

You mean the people of the outside world?

 _Yes, I do._

He raised his hand to type a response but then set it down. For a moment he sat still. Very still.

He thought of his years living in a world that was neither legal nor illegal. He thought of all the hungry nights and cold mornings; the beatings and the escapes; the shame and the guilt.

The eyes that were dulled by bitterness suddenly had a spark in them. The shadow of a smile played on his lips. He knew where this was going. His heart beat fast again—with excitement. He wrote back.

The outside world is full of injustices and suffering.

With his arms folded, Killer stared at the translucent message window. Charlotte did not reply right away. Killer tapped his finger on his arm. He did not like to be kept waiting.

Finally—a reply.

 _Do you fear death?_

He laughed out loud. _Heh, she is an interesting one—what a shame._

There is something I fear far more than death.

 _That is good. I like you. We are alike, you and I. Meet me at the Fishermans' Inn on the third floor in Rovia tomorrow evening 10pm. Don't be late._

He sensed the conversation ending. Quickly he set his hands to the translucent keyboard; there was something he had to ask.

How do you my name? I have never joined a party, nor do I have anyone on my friends list.

 _There is more than one way of getting a person's name._

How did you get my name? No one knows my name.

 _I know your name._

Killer bit his lips and scowled. _What a cheeky one._ He asked her again.

How did you get my name?

 _Meet me at the inn tomorrow evening and maybe I will tell you._

How will I recognize you?

He waited, but a reply never came.

"Heh." For a while, he sat there, re-reading the conversation. Charlotte—what an impudent girl; she had ordered him to meet her without asking him wether or not it was convenient for him. The needs of others were impervious to her. She had asked him the questions she wanted to ask him without introducing herself first. And she did not bother to answer the questions he asked—save for giving her name.

Whoever this girl was, Killer concluded that she was used to ordering people around and was not used to being denied what she wanted.

Some people developed alter egos once they entered Aincrad and it was entirely possible that this Charlotte was a different person in the real world; but here in Aincrad, the only thing that mattered was who she was right now.

With such an attitude, Killer assumed that she would have subordinates to command.

He reached behind his back with one hand and rubbed the hilt of his Black and White daggers. He chuckled with devilish anticipation.


	4. The Girl Who Had Wings

**Chapter 3**

 **The Girl Who Had Wings**

The blades of the morning sun cut through the lustrous thicket of the forest. A gentle breeze caused the branches to sough, the leaves to rustle. The birds had awoken at first light and sang their song, unperturbed by the sole invader.

Killer had headed out before sunrise and hiked an hour away from the main city of the tenth floor, Ellensburgh.

With a satisfied breath did he sit down, the grass glistening with morning dew. He took a swig from a waterskin and looked up at the tree he sat against; the branches were set in a good position. He got up and nimbly climbed up the tree. The top provided a vantage point of the area. The veil of the morning mist limited his view, but he could see enough; an ocean of forest and the city of Ellensburgh was but a tiny hazy rise at the horizon.

He took a deep breath and exhaled profoundly. Even though he knew that this view was fake—an image generated by the NerveGear—he listened to the tranquil silence of the morning. The melancholy of solitude rose in his chest. His heart trembled with memories of the past.

Killer was confident that this was virgin territory. Few quests on this floor—or any floor—required the player to venture this deep into the dangerous areas. And those quests that did were ignored as they were too time consuming and the rewards did not justify the risks. It made more sense to go into the dungeon and hunt for chests which yielded higher rewards.

Killer was here for a quest he had just started this morning: _The Hunt for the Mist Bird_. The quest rewards were unknown, the quest length was unknown and the risk to reward ratio was unknown. The only clue given by the quest starting point—an old woman living in the poor parts of Ellensburgh—was that her pet the Mist Bird had escaped into the forest.

It was a needle in a haystack. A fish in an ocean. Grass in a meadow.

However for Killer, this was the ideal quest; he had wanted to explore this part of the tenth floor. But it wasn't just curiosity that pushed him here; ever since last night, he felt that he was being watched.

Killer was disconcerted by Charlotte's message. With her, he had lost the initiative. He lacked knowledge and information. He knew nothing about her—save for her name—but she seemed to know a lot about him.

If this Charlotte knew his name, then it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that she also knew his face and where he lived. The only way to make sure that there were no prying eyes on his back was to travel to the white spots on the map.

There were still eighteen hours left until his meeting with Charlotte. He did not want to be vulnerable for eighteen hours.

One could never be cautious enough.

He got down from the tree and when his feet touched the ground, did he freeze. He could hear sounds that weren't made by him; the crunching of leaves, a grunt...one...two—two pairs of heavy feet.

Spring Rise in hand, he took one step at a time, avoiding the leaves and branches on the forest floor. There! Behind several layers of trees did he see the source of the sound—a bear.

Killer shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he had activated the Search Skill. Peering through the thicket of the forest, did he see the details of the bear. Its name was _The Bear Guardian_.

He bit his lower lip and grinned. The 'the' at the beginning of the monster's name indicated that it was not a usual monster. Since this was outside the dungeon, then it probably meant that this was the Field boss.

"Heh, heh," he chuckled gleefully. He had heard that the ALS and other guilds could not find the Field boss, and yet here it was. Just the information of the location of the Field boss was worth a handsome sum—but the rewards for killing it...

Killer narrowed his eyes and he could see three health bars on the Bear Guardian. The majority of its massive body was covered in silver armor plates, designed to be effective against slash and stab Sword Skill attacks.

"Hmmm." He scratched his chin. With such a high defense, it would take at least ten players to slowly chip away on the Bear Guardian's health. But every boss—just like human beings—had a weak spot and he always searched for this weakness.

He who could exploit this weakness had the strength of a hundred men—but what was this bear's weakness?

Killer picked up a stone and threw it at the bear. It hit his armor and bounced off with a clang. The Bear Guardian noticed it, its algorithm defined the stone as a hostile act and the bear leapt up with a thunderous roar—however no enemy was detected.

There! Killer took a sharp breath. The corners of his eyes turned downwards and his grin reached from ear to ear. This was going to be too easy.

Light on his feet, he snuck around in a semi circle around the bear until he stood right ahead of its path. He gulped. If the bear took just a few more steps, then he would be seen and he would lose the advantage of having the first move.

In his left hand he held a stone and with his right hand, he drew out a throwing knife from his belt.

Almost no one in Aincrad trained the Throwing Knife skill. It was seen as a waste of time and money; throwing knives were expensive, difficult to buy, and compared to swords did relatively little damage. It made more sense to train a one-handed or two-handed sword skill.

But right at the beginning of this heavenly prison did Killer realize one essential truth in this game; there was no magic, no crossbows and arrows, no guns or any other form of projectile weaponry. This also meant that the monsters in this game did not have ranged weapons.

Any kind of high damage long ranged weapon would destroy the balance of the game.

And that was why the ultimate advantage lay in having a mid-ranged weapon.

He readied his throwing knife. Its edge was dripping with a black poison he himself had made with his potion skill—the same poison he had used on his twin daggers.

He exhaled through his mouth and slowed his heartbeat. He threw the rock at the bear and again it bounced off. It roared and leapt up. Right at that moment did Killer release his throwing knife and hit the Bear Guardian's weak spot: its underbelly.

The Guardian's entire body was covered in armor but its underbelly was exposed. It was a weakness other players would not have been able to exploit; the bear only exposed its soft spot when it stood on its two hind legs; and a player would have been crushed by the bear's paws if he tried to attack its underbelly at close quarters.

Killer's throwing knife buried itself in the Bear Guardian's white fur and it roared with pain. A temporary stun poison status took over its body and the mighty beast collapsed onto its back.

"Heh, heh, heh," Killer laughed with sardonic amusement.

The Bear Guardian was on its back, exposed like a turtle. It whimpered and struggled, its claws cutting air, reaching for nothing.

"Shhh...I will end it soon," he said quietly.

His Spring Rise gleamed with a green hue as he held it above his head. Without hesitation he sunk it into the soft white fur. The bear roared with agony, but the stun poison would not let him fight back. Killer hacked away, butchering the creature's health bar until there was nothing left.

The Bear Guardian dissolved into a thousand transparent shards.

A translucent window appeared before Killer. Since all the damage had been dealt by him, he received all the col and experience from a monster whose rewards would normally be distributed among a throng of players.

The experience points themselves allowed him to jump two levels. Killer could barely contain his joy. With this leap in level, he would be on equal standing with the foremost players on the front line.

He scrolled through his inventory and found a plethora of monster drops; nearly a hundred Guardian Fangs, White Claws and Steel Fur. Killer touched the items and the descriptions said that they could be used to upgrade various weapons and armor. At the bottom did he see several kilograms of Guardian Bear Fat. The description for this monster drop told him little beyond what the name of the item indicated. He'd have to go back to Ellensburgh to find out what this Guardian Bear Fat was good for.

He scrolled down to check what the Last Attack bonus was, but something else caught his attention. He pricked his ears and heard the sound of metal clashing.

Killer closed his eyes.

He could hear two pairs of feet.

Two metal objects.

He had heard this kind of sound many times before; there was an unspoken agreement among players that killing each other was the ultimate taboo, as death in Aincrad meant death in the real world. Hence, in order to solve disputes, players dueled each other with the Dueling System in the safe areas of towns and cities. The Dueling System would prevent players from killing each other and declare a winner when enough damage had been dealt. However if two players were to fight in the wilderness area...there was no system in place to prevent fatalities.

With his Spring Rise in hand, he followed the sounds of battle.

Killer stopped. He stood at the edge of a meadow. He could see one of the fighters. She wore a dark red leather skirt with metal plates stitched to the sides. Her flowing blonde hair was accompanied by a red scarf that anyone on the front line could recognize.

"Anna the Red," he murmured.

What was she doing here? He couldn't see anyone else from the ALS accompanying her. _How strange._ Prominent members of such public guilds always had an aid at their side.

"Hyaaa!" she cried and charged a Sword Skill.

At what?

Killer raised a curious eyebrow.

A second player charged at her and cancelled out her Sword Skill with a well-timed upper cut. Killer didn't recognize him; this man's body was covered in a shredded brown cape and his face was hidden by a hood. But there was one thing his hood couldn't cover: the red crystal above his head.

He drew a sharp breath. His heart jumped. It was the first time he had seen the real thing. This was the status of someone who killed another player.

Green stood for innocence.

Orange stood for harm.

Red stood for death.

Anna the Red leapt back and the hooded player followed after her. However she was able to create a little distance with that retreat and regained her stance.

He aimed at her neck, she ducked and charged her left hand with a Martial Arts skill. She dived under him and punched him in the stomach, causing him to fly back.

Without wasting time, she jumped to close the distance while at the same time entering the motion for a Sword Skill.

Killer stood there, leaning against a tree and for a moment he forgot to blink.

Her flowing blonde hair glittered in the morning sunlight as she soared with the wind. Her sky blue eyes blazed with unrelenting resolve, as though she were fighting for something more important than even her own life.

Her Sword Skills connected beautifully, never wasting any movement; she completely understood the game system and knew how to maximize every possible action in the heat of battle.

Some might have described her movements as a terrifying dance, but Killer would have disagreed. To him, she was a like a girl who had wings.

The hooded man did not give in. His movements carried no hesitation.

He managed to cancel out Anna's Sword Skill again.

The fight came to a temporary stop. Both were drenched in sweat. Both were exhausted. Neither was going to let the other go.

Killer drew out a throwing knife, entered the throwing motion and aimed it at the hooded man. Why did he help her? He wasn't even sure himself—but that violent energy in her infinite blue eyes stirred something deep inside him.

 _She is just like…just like her._

He threw the knife and immediately the hooded man jumped back.

Killer's heart stopped. This was the first time anyone—and anything—had managed to dodge his mid-range attack after he had launched it.

The hooded man fled into the shadows of the forest, but the girl did not follow him. She did not move a muscle.

Killer took a breath, collected himself and stepped out of his hiding place.

"It's rare to see a red player," he said as he walked towards her. "I didn't think PK groups would have turned to actually killing people."

He expected for the female fighter to turn to him or show a sign of acknowledgment—but nothing.

Killer began to feel awkward. He continued. "He was rather strong—about the same as the other front line players. That's something to worry about, but as long as— "

Anna turned to him. Killer stopped talking.

"You." Her voice was deadly quiet.

In a flash, she closed the distance between them and sunk her blade into his heart. She pushed him to the ground and rammed her scimitar through him until it was buried in the grass beneath him.

Killer was so surprised that he did not even make a sound.

He didn't need to look at his health bar to know that his health points were rapidly declining; the cold hand of death touched him, tugging at his deepest fears—stroking the flickering anguish of regrets.

Anna's green crystal turned orange.

"I've been looking for you."

* * *

And this is chapter 3, thank you for reading! Please do drop a review if you have the chance, I'd greatly appreciate it.


	5. Charlotte

**Chapter 4**

 **Charlotte**

Her cold blazing blue eyes burned into him, freezing his breath in his throat. For a moment he forgot that his HP bar was in the orange area and he could only wonder how someone could have such a fierce gleam in their gaze.

"You've been looking for me?"

He glanced at his HP bar. It was seventy percent full. She wasn't going to actually kill, right? The unwavering blue gaze did not give him an answer.

"I've received a tip—a report that there is a green PK player. He wears a chainmail hood and specializes in daggers and throwing knives," she said and pulled off his hood, "and he has black hair, brown eyes and he wears studded leather chest armor."

Killer swallowed. This described him perfectly.

"So you tried to save your colleague, ey?" Anna growled, pushing her blade further into his body. "You knew he didn't stand a chance against me, so you aimed your throwing knife at him. You're a clever one, aren't you? Aiming at him will give him a chance to escape and allow you to introduce yourself to me as an ally."

She leaned down, her nose almost touching his. All he could see was a sea of vicious blue. "But I'm not some air headed stupid little girl. Did you really think I'd be fooled by you? Maybe you thought I would throw myself into your arms, hm?"

Killer breathed deeply. "How can I be his colleague? I'm a green player see?"

"Don't take me for a fool!" she bellowed. "I know how you PK groups work; the green player lures the victim into the wilderness areas and the red players do the killing."

Killer averted his gaze. He felt uncomfortable making eye contact with anyone for an extended period of time. He pointed at her blade. "You know, if you don't pull this out of me, I'll die and won't be able to tell you anything. You can't see it, but my HP bar is at thirty percent."

Anna the Red narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

Twenty percent. Killer's heart beat fast with panic.

"Fine." The corners of her lips were pulled downwards as she pulled her blade out of him.

Killer let out a deep sigh of relief. He knew that he wasn't in any real danger—he trusted that such a prominent member of the ALS wouldn't so easily become a red player—but it was still profoundly disconcerting to see one's HP bar so low.

He had fifteen percent of his HP left. Fifteen percent away from death.

He opened his menu and quickly took out a potion. He drank urgently, fearing that Anna might change her mind.

After his HP had recovered, Killer stood and patted off the dirt on his back—not that dirt could get on his clothes in the virtual world of Aincrad; it was just a habit he carried over from the real world.

"Right, like I said, I'm not a PK player," Killer said. "I don't know who gave you that tip, but you've got the wrong person." He took a deep breath and then continued. "Believe me, I would be the last person to become a PK player; there are still many things I have to do in the real world."

He felt her eyes measuring him, examining his equipment and estimating his strength. She was expecting a fight.

"I'm not going to fight you," Killer said with a deep frown. "I'm not a PK player. What purpose would fighting you have?"

Her stance was tensed, but she stayed silent.

"Well then, I'll be going."

Killer took several steps towards the forest. Suddenly, he felt a rush of wind behind him.

He turned his head and Anna the Red stood behind him, her blade against his neck.

"Who said you could leave?"

Killer closed his eyes and exhaled through his mouth. He put both of his hands up to show that he had no weapon.

He slowly turned to face her. Judging by what he had seen so far, Anna was an excellent fighter—maybe even better than himself. But right now, his HP was full and she was most likely down to ninety or maybe eighty percent. If he fought her, he estimated that he had a fair chance at winning. But what would the point in all of that be? If he killed her, then he would become a red player and he would not be able to enter the safe areas in towns and cities. And even if he didn't kill her, he would be become a wanted player by the ALS for attacking one of their leading players. There was no scenario where he could profit from physical confrontation. And if he could not profit from a conflict, then he did not want to partake in it.

To Killer, exerting effort for righteous reasons rather than profit—money, information or whatnot—was a fool's errand.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice layered with icy politeness.

"There are some questions I want to ask you."

"Yeah?"

She lowered her scimitar sword, but did not sheath it. "There have been reports that PK guilds have formed since the eighth floor and now they are trying to recruit new members by sending out private messages."

"So?"

"Have you received a message from one of the guilds?"

Killer gawked at her. _Is she stupid?_ He imagined that from her position, she could not even be completely sure if he was a PK player or not—and now she asked a question like this in such a blatant manner. She might be a skilled fighter, but Killer wondered if that was the only thing she was good at.

But since she appeared to be a bit of a fool, Killer decided to lure out the one thing he could from her: information. It was time to change his approach.

"What makes you think that I might have gotten invited?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"The PK guilds are mainly targeting front line solo players. These players are the most likely to join because they have no allegiance to anyone."

"Hah!" Killer laughed mockingly. "And so you think that just because I'm alone it means that I got invited? Miss Anna, may I call you that? Miss Anna, you are part of the Aincrad Liberation Squad; the most upstanding guild in Aincrad." He struggled to suppress his sarcasm. "It hurts to know that the ALS is discriminating against solo players and one of their most prominent members is randomly attacking solo players without verifying their identity. And where did you get your information from? It must be incredible inaccurate and vague from the sounds of it."

Anna's face flushed red with indignation and embarrassment. She tightened the grip around the hilt of her blade and for a moment, Killer thought that she would try to impale him.

"Look, you!" she pointed her scimitar at him. "We have received reliable intelligence that a PK guild by the name of Charlotte is recruiting players! Don't smile! How dare you!"

Killer suppressed a chuckle. Manipulating this girl was too easy.

"Well? Have you ever received a message from Charlotte?" Her blade inched closer to his throat, but he felt no danger. In her eyes, he only saw indignation and hurt pride—but no actual killing intent. He had seen the eyes of a murderer before—cold, blank and devoid of empathy. And while obstinacy was as clear as day in her gaze, these were not the eyes of a killer.

"No, I have never heard of Charlotte or received an invitation to a PK guild."

Anna narrowed her eyes, assessing the truthfulness of his answer.

"Fine. You may go now."

"Thank you," he said with a mocking smile.

* * *

On his way back to Ellensburgh, Killer was in good spirits. Although Anna was a pain to deal with (and frankly, he'd rather not come across her again), he had managed to gain some valuable information.

A sword cannot survive without an informed mind.

"Charlotte, huh," he murmured. He had assumed that Charlotte was a single person, but according to Anna, it was the name of PK guild. This meant that whoever he was meeting tonight on the third floor, it would most likely be a group of players. That in itself was dangerous, but so long as the meeting was in a safe area inside the main town Rovia, no harm could come to him.

But even though it was a group of players, how did they know his name? He had never introduce himself to anyone—ever. He had to find out.

What surprised Killer was that the ASL was hunting PK players. He figured that such a large guild would be too busy pushing ahead in the dungeons and level grinding for the next boss fight. After all, they were competing with the Dragon Knights guild and could not afford to fall behind their rival.

Had PK players become such a large threat already? But if they were a significant threat, then why did Anna the Red fight the PK player on her own so deep inside the wilderness? Entering a fight like that so far away from town and without any support was brainless recklessness.

 _Maybe she is just stupid_ , Killer thought. After all, she had inadvertently given out quite a bit of information without verifying his identity. She had believed his lie without so much as a blink. She was so easily angered by his taunts.

But he could not shake the chill he felt when her icy blue eyes starred daggers into him. What unrelenting resolve!

And yet this was not what bothered him the most. Anna said that someone had given her a tip, describing him as a PK player. It was alarming how accurate that description was. With a bit of luck he had managed to deescalate the situation and escape—but with a fifteen percent margin until death. Too close. Far too close.

Whoever gave her that tip must have known that the ALS was hunting PK players. This meant that whoever gave the tip hoped that Anna would attack and kill him.

 _But who would want me dead?_

* * *

Killer returned to Ellensburgh and gave some of the Guardian Fans and White Claws to an NPC craftsman who upgraded his studded leather chest armor from +16 to +25 defense and +10 to +15 durability. He had enough materials to easily push the stats of his leather armor to +50 or above, but he considered it a waste to spend such a large number of upgrade materials on a piece of armor he got on the eighth floor. Once the eleventh floor had been breached, better armor with far superior base stats should be available from NPC shops and even better ones should be found as monster drops.

He left his Spring Rise as it was. He was confident that currently, his Spring Rise was comparable to the main weapons of the other front line players, and it would be a waste to upgrade it now when there could be better weapons available later on. After all, it wasn't every day that he could so easily take down a Mid Field boss on his own and reap all the rewards. If he budgeted carefully, then the stockpile of White Claws and Guardian Fangs could last for quite a while.

The Last Attack bonus of the Bear Guardian took his breath away. Killer had never seen a weapon quite like it. Its name was Guardian Fist and it was essentially a metal glove that he could equip to either hand. It transformed his fingers into gleaming claws with infinite edges. The metal glove reached up to his elbow and could in theory be also used as a shield. Killer tapped the item and it was indeed categorized as a shield rather than a one-handed sword. He dual wielded it together with his Spring Break. He could barely contain his gleeful chuckle. With this Guardian Fist, his attack power almost doubled and his defense also rose.

Once his upgrades were done, Killer unequipped his Guardian Fist; there was no need to agitate the hubris of the frontline players by showing off his new gear. It was also better to avoid the envy of others.

Wether in real life or in a game, people would always become envious about something that they don't have or can't get. And being the target of envy was not a good position to be in—not in Aincrad.

He then headed to the teleport plaza and went down to the first floor. There was still another six hours between now and his meeting with Charlotte, and it was better to head into the lion's den with a rested mind.

* * *

The main town of the third floor was called Rovia. It was a charming city with two or three storey stone houses built on water. The alleyways were narrow canals that separated the city into different districts and the only way to reach the different districts was to either hire a gondola for 80 col per ride or build your own gondola and row yourself.

Killer smiled gently as he stood in the middle of the city. Out of all the floors, Rovia was his favorite. The old stone houses, the gondolas and waterways appealed to the secret romantic in him. The peaceful silence of this town filled him with a sense of ease—a rare moment of tranquility. The languid air about this town contrasted sharply to the buzzing busyness of Ellensburgh. He loved Rovia, even if the rest of the player population did not.

Whoever Charlotte was, he concluded that she (or perhaps he or them) was rather smart. The third floor was a perfect place to hide a PK player operation.

Rovia was an abandoned city with almost only NPCs populating it.

Players who still waited for outside rescue did not leave the Town of Beginning on the first floor. Mid-range player who worked on catching up to the front line players had passed Rovia and were on the fifth and sixth floor. Craftsmen and blacksmiths required the best materials to make the best products, and thus they were often found on the eighth to tenth floor.

On top of that, moving around on the third floor was a major hassle. To venture outside of the town, one needed to have his own gondola as the NPC gondolas only traveled within the city's canals. Once outside the city's safe zone it was possible for a player's gondola to come under attack by hostile monsters; but it was almost impossible to defend oneself while rowing. This forced players—even solo players—to corporate. In addition, a private gondola required repair and upkeep, further seeping on the resources a player could use to upgrade his main weapon and armor.

That was why as soon as the fourth floor was conquered, the third floor was quickly abandoned by front line and regular players.

Killer hired a gondola to take him to the Fisherman's Inn and paid the NPC 80 col. The man bowed his head and said "thank yeh kindly, sir" and pushed away from the dock.

Along the canals did he see rows upon rows of abandoned gondolas tied at the docks. Players had completed the shipbuilding quest in droves upon rushing to the third floor and now had all abandoned them. Killer too had built himself a small gondola, but he had long forgotten where he had tied it up. The sight of so many abandoned gondolas was chillingly eerie—as though a calamity had caused an exodus.

"Say, Mister, why are there so many gondolas tied up?" Killer asked. He wanted to see what kind of response the NPCs algorithm would produce.

"Some time ago, lotsa adventures came tar Rovia and they all needed their own boats an' such," the man said. "Et was good business, yessir it was."

"And why did those adventurers leave?"

"Why do children leave their parents? Young uns can't stay in a place forever, no? One must stride ahead in their young years."

Killer raised an amused eyebrow. This NPCs responses were more intelligent than he expected.

After another minute, they man announced that they had arrived and that the Fishermans' Inn was just around the corner.

"Have a good day, sir."

"Yes…yes…," Killer nodded. "You too."

Although players had abandoned Rovia, NPCs gave an uncanny breath of life to what would otherwise be a ghost town. Killer could see NPC shopkeepers advertising their wares to other NPCs. There were NPC mothers holding the hands of their children. People walked from place to place, heading to where their algorithm demanded them to go. The programming commanded that sometimes they stop and look around themselves, appearing a little lost and then finding their bearings again.

Killer's walk came to a gradual stop. These NPCs...they all appeared as though they were living a proper life, going about their business, repeating the same routine day after day and making choices that weren't really choices at all. There was the illusion that they were masters of their own destinies—an illusion only an outsider observer could see.

He smiled with cynical humor. These NPCs weren't so different from real people after all.

He reached the Fishermans' Inn. It was an establishment that lived up to its name: rowdy NPC fishermen sat outside the inn, singing and drinking. The graphic models decorating the inn were superbly done; barrels of fish and stacks of wooden crates were lined up against the wall. The door was made out of thick timber and was well aged with plenty of scratches and dents. Above the door hung a rusty old sign in the shape of a fish with the name 'Fishermans' Inn' inscribed into it in faded golden cursive letters.

Killer pushed open the door. The ground floor was dimly lit by a rusty chandelier and candles on every table. His gaze swept across the dirty wooden floor and his eyes landed on the only female player in this establishment. She was peering into her mug she was nursing, her long silky purple hair covering her eyes.

Upon hearing the sound of Killer's entrance, she looked up and their eyes met. She smiled coquettishly and the corners of her meadow green eyes crinkled. She beckoned for him to come over.

Killer crossed the room and stood before her table.

"Are you Charlotte?"

"I must be."

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! Please drop a review if you like it :)


	6. To be, or not to be

**Chapter 5**

 **To be, or not to be**

Under any other circumstances, Charlotte might have appeared like a plain young woman, but in Aincrad, few men noticed her lack of beauty as most were enchanted by her animated laughter and how her dimples deepened when she smiled. Her long wavy purple hair carried an enthralling gentle scent. She wore an uneven purple leather skirt that showed off more of her left thigh. A dark purple corset style armor emphasize her delicate waistline. A silver zipper line pulled the corset together and gleamed like a piece of jewelry. Her arms and were hands were bare, her smooth skin enticing every player who was starved for female company.

She was the only female player sitting in this inn on the third floor. Around her was a throng of male players of various levels and professions.

When she stood, the other players all rose.

"Killer, I'm glad to see you alive." She offered her hand.

Killer swallowed silently. He was completely surrounded. He glanced furtively at the doorway from which he entered from; it was six steps away and there were five players between him and the doorway. Even though the town area did not allow for violence, they could still physically block his escape route and starve him out. He couldn't fight himself out of this; he had to negotiate and he had little leverage.

Fear crept under his skin, but he did not let it show on his face. _Stay calm._

There was an air of deference in the mens' attitude towards her. They rose from their seats when she did, and did not so much as make a sound; a stern silence hung over these men—a silence not even broken by a cough or the shifting of feet. Only Charlotte was allowed to address the guest. Killer realized that this was not a simple meeting; she was a queen holding court and she was giving him an audience.

He shook her hand. He had never felt a hand that was so soft.

"Please, sit."

Killer obeyed and sat on the bench across her. He rested his hands on the table. Charlotte too sat and the other players followed suit.

"So you are the leader of the PK guild Charlotte?" Killer asked.

"You jump right to the point, don't you?" Charlotte chuckled gently and her wavy purple hair fell sensually over one eye. She leaned across the table and Killer could see her cleavage. "You certainly have done your homework, hmm, boy?" Killer didn't know where to put his eyes. He could breathe in her scent and that made him uneasy. "You even know that we are a PK guild rather than a single player. Yes, you are right. Charlotte is the temporary name of the first PK guild in Aincrad and I am their leader, Charlotte."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Although I wonder...how did you find out about us so quickly?" She smiled enigmatically. "I made sure not to leak any information to you in the message I sent you...hmm, and very few players know about us..."

"Damn," Killer thought and gritted his teeth. He had made the first mistake by showing how much he knew. He should have asked her what she wanted from him rather than giving a glimpse of his knowledge.

She pulled back, formed an arch with her fingers and rested her chin on it. She was waiting for him to answer.

A ray of hope. Showing his hand had not been a complete mistake. Considering her question, it seemed likely that she did not know that the ASL knew of her and her guild's existence. This also meant that she likely did not know that the ALS was hunting for members of Charlotte. Killer formed his hands into fists under the table. He had information that she wanted, and so long as he did not give it away, his life was not in immediate danger.

And yet, Charlotte's voice did not carry any concern at all. He could see no sign of disconcertion on her face. Did she simply pretend to be nonchalant about this matter and therefore hoping that he would tell he more?

Whatever game she was playing, Killer knew that he was holding onto a fragile thread of hope; if he continued to allow her to control the conversation, then he would be forced to give up what he knew.

"How were you able to send me a message?" Killer asked. "How did you find out about me? No one knows my name."

"Oh that is simple," Charlotte said as she played with her hair. She curled it around her middle finger and then let it go again. "I bought your name from someone. It cost me a pretty penny too...but I always expect to make profit on my investments."

"Impossible. I have never told anyone my name."

"There is more than one way of seeing a person's name in Aincrad."

"And I don't suppose you will tell me?"

Charlotte smiled coquettishly with a seductive gleam in her eyes. "If you are a good boy, then maybe someday I will tell you." Her voice was soft as velvet with the vibrant purr of a hunter.

Before Killer could ask more questions, Charlotte continued. "Enough of your questions. There are some things I want you to tell me."

All of the sudden the playful air about her vanished and there was a seriousness that came almost as a shock.

Killer sat still, very still, waiting for her to continue. He had not managed to take control of the conversation; he was able to ask questions because Charlotte allowed him to, and that had now come to an end. His heart pounded against is chest. _What to do? What to do?_ Silence was his only option.

"You said that you are already a dead man. What did you mean by that?"

Those were the words he said to the PK players outside the dungeon. Suddenly, he felt several hot glares on his back. He turned his head and he met the eyes of three men who's faces were filled with acid hate. He blinked and after a moment did he finally recognize them.

"Ah." Killer's mouth was half open. It finally made sense. Now it was so obvious—all of it. "Those PK players who ambushed me outside the dungeon were your men."

"Correct."

"And now you want revenge?"

"These were my best men and they carried the best equipment that we have and you took all of it. Should I want revenge? Probably. But no, revenge is not why I called you here and that is not how I got your name."

She folded her arms and rested them on the table as she leaned in closer.

"Tell me, what did you mean when you said 'I'm already a dead man'?"

"Why do you want to know? What's it to you?"

Killer's eyes met Charlotte's. Her eyes were unfathomable and he felt her green gaze peer into him, searching him for his deepest secrets. It felt as though she were examining his soul, and suddenly, the corners of her eyes crinkled ever so subtly.

"I want to know because I think you and I are alike...Killer." She paused before saying his name and caressed it until it took away all the menace out of it. "I have a good eye for people. I know who you are in your heart when I see you. And you Killer, you and I, we have the same eyes. We are cut from the same cloth."

Killer broke eye contact and for just a short moment, a sudden flare of anger chocked all utterance out of him.

"You know nothing about me." His voice was deadly quiet. The corners of his lips were curled with contempt.

Charlotte's eyes were wide with surprise. She then nodded empathetically. "You are right; I know nothing about you. I don't know who you are, I don't know where you are from, but I recognize your brand of strength."

Her voice grew cold. "After all, you did a number on us when you defeated three of my best men with your daggers. You took all of their col and their weapons and armor. I will not ask you to return them, but I want you to answer my question."

Killer clenched his jaw. What a mercurial woman, he thought. All of the sudden, she had the air of a killer about her.

"I am a dead man because no matter what happens to me, I will end up a dead man."

"You mean that regardless of wether you are in Aincrad or in the real world, you will die a premature death?"

"Yes."

"Hmm," Charlotte tilted her head. "I wonder what you are running away from in the real world. Debt? Loan sharks? Lawyers?"

Killer averted her entreating gaze. "It's not something I can run away from."

"Hmm," Charlotte murmured. Her curious eyes searched him, measured him, but found nothing. "So you are someone who can live longer in Aincrad than in the real world."

Killer said nothing. He only gave the slightest nod.

"That is good...very good. I was right in contacting you." She cleared her throat. "Killer, I want to invite you to join our PK guild. Our goal is to slow down the front line players so that we can stay in Aincrad for as long as possible."

Killer could only answer with a dumbfounded expression.

Charlotte spread her arms. "Every player sitting in this inn is a player who can live a better life inside Aincrad than he can in the real world. That is why we have joined together in order to fulfill our only goal: to live for as long as we can in Aincrad."

She leaned across the table. Killer could hear her gentle breath and taste her scent. "So tell me Killer," her voice was filled with a sudden and strange tenderness. "Do you really wish to join that world filled with misery, greed, stress and frustrated people? A world where only money measures the worth of a life? Are we trapped…or are they?"

Killer glanced left and right. The men had not moved. There was no pathway to the outside.

"And what if I don't want to join?"

"You know too much already," Charlotte said quietly. "Just knowing that we exist is too much. If you don't join us...well," she licked her lips, "there is no way to harm you inside the safe areas of town. But you are a front line solo player…and front line solo players die all the time, no? And when you die, no one will look for you, no one will notice. You are all alone in this world."

"Then I'll just stay inside the safe areas."

Charlotte grinned like a mad man and threw her head back with laugher. "I don't know you Killer, but I know people with eyes like yours. You cannot stay within the town. You hunger for adventure and fights. You crave for it. My men will follow you everywhere and the moment you set one foot outside of town, we will rip you apart."

Her words caused a shiver to crawl on his flesh, but Killer maintained a neutral expression.

He could see the unrelenting determination gleaming in her pretty eyes, but he could only think of her as a fool. A determined—but deluded—fool, all of them.

Killer let out a profound breath. "Even if I join you, I don't see how your mission can succeed."

He turned his back to Charlotte and faced her men, and in a blink, he had gained an estimate of their equipment and corresponding levels. Charlotte had given him two options: join or die. But he saw a third option.

"Judging from your equipment, most of you are five to seven levels behind the front line players. The front line is made up of guild leaders like Anna the Red and solo players like Asuna the Flash and Kirito the Black Swordsman. How can you ever hope to slow them down with stats like this?"

He t urned back to Charlotte.

"And you say that the men outside the dungeon are your best? They were still using Anneal Blades from the first floor! Don't look so insulted, Charlotte. You cannot impede the relentless progress of the front line with equipment and levels like this."

He took a breath. "I have survived to this day because I know when to fight and when to suffer silently; and you cannot win this fight."

Killer could hear angered murmurs all around him.

Charlotte abruptly stood. Her breasts were heaving with hurt pride.

"There is more than one way to slow down the front line."


	7. The Golden Goose

**Chapter 6**

 **The Golden Goose**

"There is more than one way to slow down the front line."

Killer too stood. "Then show me."

The two of them held eye contact for a few moments, each trying to read what the other was thinking. Eventually, Charlotte nodded. "Come with me."

The other players rose and prepared to follow her, but Charlotte made a gesture that told them to stay put.

"I'll go alone with Killer. The rest of you stay here."

"Miss Charlotte!" A man dared to speak. It was the leader of the three PK players who ambushed him outside the dungeon. Without his hood, Killer could clearly see the black mane that reached down to his shoulders. But now that he had been stripped of all his equipment and weapons, he appeared no different from the apathetic players sitting in the Town of Beginnings—save for the indignation written on his face. "He is too dangerous! You cannot go alone with him!"

Charlotte shot him an obliterating glare and the man's shoulders shrank.

"Liemans, I will remind you that I am five levels above you. You will stay here and I will go alone with Killer."

And then she added: "And I saved his life; he won't hurt his savior."

That was the final word. She grabbed Killer's wrist and dragged him out of the door. He could feel the glowering glares of the men inside the Fishermans' Inn.

"You saved my life?" Killer asked once they were outside.

"I am hurt." Charlotte turned on her heels with her hands behind her back. "Who was it that screamed in agony and cursed like a madman while he was paralyzed by the Minotaur in the tenth floor dungeon?"

Killer's breath froze in his throat. His memory was hazy, but he recalled that someone in a purple leather skirt sat on top of him while feeding him a potion. His eyes fell on her skirt; without a doubt, it was the same one. Killer frowned incredulously.

"So it was you."

"Yes, and you owe me a potion. Those things aren't cheap."

"Why did you save me?"

"Why, I already told you before; how could you forget the words of your savior so easily," she said with mock admonishment. "It would be a shame to let you die like that."

They took a gondola to the teleport plaza in the middle of Rovia. This was it. This was his chance to escape. He could use the teleport gate to return to the Town of Beginnings and hide there. Killer clenched his hands into fists. He swallowed. As tempting as it may be, he knew that he wasn't going to do that. He valued his own safety, but curiosity overruled his self-preservation instincts.

* * *

Killer wasn't the least surprised when Charlotte called out the main city of the tenth floor when she entered the teleport gate. Moments later, they both stood at the central plaza of Ellensburgh. It was close to midnight, and yet the plaza buzzed with activity. Players chatted, drank and sang together. NPCs made good business with their food stalls. There was a clear sense of celebration in the air.

"Is something special going on?" Killer asked.

"You will find out." Charlotte answered. With her back turned to him, her eyes glimmered with gentle delight as she watched the merry players. The shadow of a smile was on her lips. "Come on, let's go."

They walked away from the plaza and headed into the alleyways of the city. Killer noticed that they weren't headed towards the dungeon which was in the north of the tenth floor, but were going to the east of the city.

"We aren't going into the dungeon?"

Charlotte didn't answer, but instead kept on going. Killer sighed and followed. If this was in real life, he wouldn't have followed Charlotte so easily; but in Aincrad, nothing could harm him in the safe areas of town and so long as she didn't go outside of town, he would follow her.

Charlotte took many left and right turns, never hesitating and never stopping to look at her map. In record time, they reached their destination: The Golden Goose.

It was an establishment that contrasted greatly with the Fishermans' Inn in Rovia; the outside stone walls were clean and devoid of trash and vermin. The entrance door was made from polished mahogany that glowed lucently in the light of the oil lamp. The sign that hung above the door was a flat golden goose with the name inscribed in golden cursive writing —almost ostentatiously cursive—that was not the least faded.

"This is an inn, what are we doing here?"

Charlotte opened her menu, selected a few options and a party invitation appeared before Killer.

"For what I'm planning to show you, we will need to be in a party together."

Killer raised a suspicious eyebrow, but accepted the request anyway. Charlotte's name and HP bar appeared below his own in the top left corner of his vision.

Charlotte was about to open the door when she abruptly stopped. She scratched her chin and looked pensively at Killer. He stood there, puzzled by her hesitation.

"Actually, since you are here, let's do it a little differently this time."

Confused, Killer shook his head. What did she mean?

"It's really simple," she said, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Just go in there, order a drink and sit down. I'll come in after you. Pretend that you don't know me. Then when I leave you, follow me with your Hiding Skill."

"How do you know that I have equipped the Hiding Skill?"

"You just look like the type of person who'd have such a sneaky skill."

"Hah!" Killer snorted and he couldn't help but laugh at Charlotte's reasoning which rung with nothing but truth. How amusing the truth could be when stated so blatantly.

"That's it?"

"Yup!"

"Fine."

Charlotte clapped her hands together. "Hurry!" She was like a child looking forward to her birthday and gave him an impatient shove.

Killer stumbled into the Golden Goose and immediately he felt out of place. He cursed Charlotte for not warning him in the slightest.

Most of the front line players had gathered under the roof of the Golden Goose. Killer immediately recognized some of them. There was Seinfield, one of the top players of the Aincrad Liberation Squad. He saw Lindt, leader of the second largest guild, the Dragon Knight guild, along with several vice commanders who sat by his side. And in the corners were solo players who dared to venture the frontier. There was the famous Asuna and infamous Kirito, who sat together in a corner table.

There were several other smaller guilds that had been formed since the fourth floor gave access to the guild founding quest, but by far, the Aincrad Liberation Squad had a dominating presence in this building. More than half of the room was filled with members of the ASL, all of them wearing the identical sets of heavy silver steel armor with matching kite shields.

"What the hell does she want here," Killer murmured under his breath. A PK guild leader sneaking into a front line player meeting? Was a complete fool?

Next to Seinfield, he saw a female player. She was rather short—even shorter than Anna the Red and Charlotte— and yet her gear of choice did not match her body type. She wore a simple white tunic that was covered by a heavy leather coat. But this was no ordinary coat; it was covered by thin steel plates that were stitched on the sleeves. The front and the back of the coat were covered in striped chainmail. Her legs were covered by leather skirt that was completely covered by chainmail and her hands were covered by a pair of simple leather gloves.

That must be the Iron Maiden.

How heavy must her armor be, Killer wondered and gulped. How could she possibly move on the battlefield with such heavy equipment. It was a miracle that her small frame didn't collapse under all that weight.

Killer cast a glance about; if Seinfield and the Iron Maiden were here, then where was Anna the Red? Evidently this was a meeting among the top players of the front line, but the ASL was missing its most prominent member. Where had she gone? Perhaps she was killed in the forest? Killer entertained that thought, but it gave him no pleasure.

Seinfield stood and cleared his throat, readying his announcement. Killer quickly found himself a seat. No so much as glanced at him; they just assumed he was a solo player.

"Everyone quiet down! The Iron Maiden will address you all!" Seinfield roared. The chattering in the inn came to a stop and everyone turned to the front.

Without introducing herself, the girl in the gleaming iron armor stood up. Seinfield sat down. Everyone's attention was on her.

"Today the Aincrad Liberation Squad scouting missions have discovered the tenth floor boss room," she announced. She spoke without hesitation or stutters. Every word was clear and measured. "This time it has taken us a week longer to discover the boss room as this is the first time that we don't have information from the beta test."

There were some bitter grumbles from members of the Dragon Knight guild, but they did not interrupt. The rule was that whichever guild discovered the boss room first would lead the raiding party for that floor's boss fight. It was the one rule all major guilds respected. But the ALS had been on a growth spurt since the fifth floor and could afford to send speed focused guild members into the dungeon with the single objective of scouting. This has caused for the ASL to lead every single boss fight since the sixth floor and thus it was beginning to dominate as tales of their glory spread among the non-front line players; this in turn caused bitter resentment among the other guilds who could only helplessly watch the largest guild grow ever larger.

The Iron Maiden continued. "The scouting mission has reported to me that the boss's name is _The Mist Eagle_. It is smaller in size than any other boss we have fought so far and as its name indicates, it is an eagle that flies in the boss chamber."

A perturbed murmur spread through the room. An airborne boss? This was the first time they have heard anything about that. How could one fight a bird with a sword?

"The scouting mission reports that the Mist Eagle will land on the ground at set intervals, so there will be chances for us to attack; however the scouts have not managed to identify what kind of attack the Mist Eagle uses.

"I propose that we will commence the boss fight in one week. During this one week, I ask all of you to finish as many quests as you can, as we have learned on the second floor that quest rewards on each floor might include clues regarding the dungeon boss. During this time, we will also assemble more scouting missions to explore the corners of the dungeon for more clues. I expect all of you to follow these guidelines for your activities in the following week."

She took a breath and cast a cool gaze upon the collection of front line players. "We have not had casualties since the first floor and I will not accept any casualties now. Do as I say and we will safely make it to the eleventh floor!"

She raised her gloved leather fist into the air, which glowed in the oil lamp light like a beacon of Truth, a torch of hope for the player population to follow. If cameras existed in Aincrad, this moment would have made a handsome picture.

The members of the ASL shot up from their seats and cheered passionately. The members of the other guilds only gave muted obligatory clapping.

Killer was somewhat impressed. She had such a small frame and her shoulders looked so fragile, and yet when she spoke, an air of authority and confidence shone about her. Her voice carried absolute certainty and her gaze did not waver. But underneath the natural leadership did he sense a touch of arrogance. Even though she had only made a proposal, she spoke as though she expected for everyone to follow her without question—perhaps this was inevitable as she was one of the top players on the leading guild. Her position gave her the power of a dictator and dictators rarely tolerated objections.

Killer glanced furtively around the inn and he could see that it was only the members of the ALS who appeared pleased and merry. The members of the other guilds mostly sat in sullen silence, chatting quietly among themselves. The tension was thick, but that did not seem to perturb the Iron Maiden as she sat down and gave out orders.

There was something that she said that made him pause. _The Mist Eagle._ Where had he heard something like this before? Right. This morning he had started a quest called _The Hunt for the Mist Bird—_ a quest which lead him to the Field Boss.

Perhaps the Mist Bird was a reference to the Mist Eagle that the Iron Maiden mentioned. _I should go back and finish that quest._ If the reward for the quest was indeed clues about the boss of the tenth floor, then he could sell this information for a high price.

Members of the ALS handed out small booklets that included the report the ALS scouting mission had gained. Every player in the inn got one. Killer received his from Seinfield.

"You, what are you doing here?" Seinfield spat with thinly veiled contempt.

"Attending a meeting," Killer replied as a matter of fact.

After receiving his copy, Killer wondered again what Charlotte's intent was. They were not in the dungeon or the wilderness, but here in the middle of the safe area of Ellensburgh surrounded by elite front line players. What could she possibly do here?

He saw that the players of various guilds had split themselves into groups of two or three players to discuss the information. These small groups were evidently tight circles who also worked together as a party.

Watching these players, Killer imagined that they would adventure together during the day, fighting monsters together, eating together and sit together in the evening when they counted the col they earned and planned where and they should go the next day. Sitting by the camp fire or at a round table at an inn, these men would share intrepid dreams, their fantasies, their hopes or the future and tell tales that could be lies or truth. They would sit together and gossip all night about the few female players in Aincrad like a group of middle aged housewives, forming bonds of brotherhood. These times seemed so trivial, and yet these memories would always glow with warmth when recalled on lonely days.

Killer only felt disdain at these thoughts. He sat alone, an invisible barrier between him and them.

His eyes fell on Kirito and Asuna again. They sat together in a corner table, their heads together reading from the same booklet. Without noticing himself, a forlorn expression appeared on his face. He could see a bond between those two top solo players; a genuine friendship that was so rarely seen in this world or the outside world. An unbreakable bond between just the two of them. He felt a pang in his chest that was not jealousy, but a yearning.

"Heh," Killer frowned at his own reaction. He preferred to be alone. He never went out of his way to to make contact with others. He had made it this far in live on his own and he intended to keep going like this.

And yet when he saw a pair like Asuna and Kirito, did he feel his bitter heart tremble.

Suddenly, Seinfield sat down next him. The wooden bench groaned under his enormous weight.

"You might think you are strong, but you are not," he said with derision. "I won't allow you to participate in the boss fight. You solo players won't get a piece of the cake."

Before Killer could reply, the entrance door was opened and a chilling draft wind from the outside ruffled the paper of the booklets.

Charlotte stood at the door with one hand on her hip.

Her eyes found Killer and then rested on Seinfield.

She licked her lips.

* * *

And this is the sixth chapter ^^ Please leave a review or comment, I'd greatly appreciate any feedback


	8. Charlotte's Seduction

**Chapter 7**

 **Charlotte's Seduction**

When Charlotte entered the Golden Goose, she attracted many curious looks. Her uneven skirt swayed as she walked and captivated those sore eyes. Her corset showed off her small waistline, her sleeveless outfit making more than one heart jump. There were several hushed murmurs. Who was this pretty girl who suddenly came in? She was not a front line player—no, her equipment doesn't look like front line gear. What was she doing here? Perhaps she was looking for some company?

Charlotte ignored some of the feeble approaches made by various guild members and headed straight for Killer.

Killer took a deep nervous breath. His heart beat hard against his chest. What madness did she have in mind?

Both Killer and Seinfield turned their heads when Charlotte stood behind them.

Killer looked at her oddly, but she did not meet his gaze. Her eyes were on the man next to him.

"Can I help you?" Seinfield asked.

"Could I sit here please?" Charlotte said with a sweet smile. Her dimples deepened and her forelocks almost covered her eyes, making a pretty sight for the front line warrior.

"Why, o-of course," Seinfield stammered and moved to the side, shoving the player next to him. Killer also shifted slightly to make space for her.

Before either Killer or Seinfield could speak, Charlotte continued. "I've always wanted to come to a front line meeting," she said and looked around. "The top floors are always so scary, so I never come here, but I've always wanted to see what Ellensburgh was like. And when I arrived at the teleport plaza, there was a celebration and people told me it was because the boss room had been discovered and that the Aincrad Liberation Squad would be leading the raid."

"Yes, ma'am!" Seinfield nodded vigorously. "In fact, I was the one who lead the scouting party that discovered the boss room. And we even ventured in there to get a sense of how the boss attacks."

Charlotte gasped dramatically and put a hand to her mouth. "How brave of you," she exclaimed. "Do tell me more!"

Killer sat at the table, pretending to read the information booklet, but his ears were trained at the conversation between Seinfield and Charlotte. He snorted with surpassed laughter when he heard her talk like a southern belle, flattering Seinfield like that and giving herself the airs of a lady.

"Well, you see, just two days ago, my scouting team ventured into the tenth floor dungeon and we kicked out some solo players and then we fought monster after monster until we..." Seinfield launched into a lengthy recital of how he and his fellow ASL members pushed into the heart of the tenth floor dungeon—areas where even cowardly solo players have not ventured to—and braced an innumerable number of dangers before they reached the boss room. He embellished the story with detailed description of grotesque monsters and exaggerated their strength here and there. "We did not even expect to find the boss room; we didn't know where it was, so we just worked with instinct and luck, but..." he told Charlotte of the intricate details of the _Mist Eagle_ and how dangerous it was and he promised her in a suave manner that he and the ASL would defeat the boss and advance to the eleventh floor.

Charlotte hung onto his every word and was breathless as she listened to him—or so she appeared to be. Her eyes widened with fright when he described the monsters and said "oh my" when he described the fights.

And when he was done with his heroic tale, did she put a careless hand on his armored arm and said: "How brave you are."

Seinfield's eyes traveled to where she put her hand and she then appeared to suddenly realize her conduct and retracted her hand, cast her eyes demurely to the table and her forelocks covered her eyes, partially hiding her blushing face. Seinfield noticed it, and it filled him with manly pride to have made a such a beautiful maiden blush.

"But...," Charlotte said sweetly. "If the dungeon is so dangerous, then aren't solo players the most courageous for going in there alone?"

Seinfield protruded his lower lip and raised his chin with indignation, but before he could find a reply, did Charlotte turn to Killer. "You look like a solo player, are you not?"

"Y-yes," Killer said confusedly. What in the hell was she thinking? His heart was in his throat and for a moment he panicked a little. Was he part of her plan? Unsure of her intentions, he decided on following Charlotte's lead. "I am a solo player."

"Are you not afraid to be alone all of the time?"

Killer gave Charlotte an answer that was not nearly as elegant as Seinfield's—who spoke as though he had already rehearsed his answer his mind—but holding her attention was not his main concern; for the first time, he felt intimidated by another player.

Behind Charlotte, Killer could see Seinfield's slightly helpless expression. He had been graced with the attention of the most coveted girl in the Golden Goose and all of the sudden, he had lost it to the kind of player he loathed the most. Charlotte had caught his fancy the moment she talked him—unlike the Iron Maiden she was so gentle and feminine and speaking to her made his heart tremble with ardor.

His pride was hurt and this hurt pride mixed with his deep resentment for solo players and gave birth to a blazing anger.

Killer swallowed silently. Seinfield's face was black with hate and looked as though he was ready to attack him—in-town safe area rules be damned. He had seen men do many foolish things when a woman was involved and they all had expressions like Seinfield's.

Charlotte listened ardently to his words and she peered up at him with the same eyes Seinfield had seen. _What do you want?_ That was the question Killer wanted to scream at her, and he would have done it were they not surrounded by front line players.

He felt uncomfortable with Charlotte's sparkling eyes and Seinfield's deadly glare on him and slowly became silent. Noticing this, Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but then Killer said: "Well, the ASL is larger in numbers and they can advance the front line faster."

He hoped that if she talked to Seinfield again, she might reveal her intentions and relief Seinfield's jealousy.

"That's right!" Seinfield quickly took the chance to interject. "We the ASL have accomplished far more than you selfish solo players."

He said that loud enough for everyone in the inn to hear. Some of the ASL members stamped their feet and brought their fists down onto the tables, concurring with their leader.

"Yessir!"

"That's right! That's right!"

"Solo players have done nothing! Nothing for our liberation!"

The air strained with sudden tension and the present solo players exchanged disconcerted glances and avoided eye contact with guild members.

Charlotte glowered at Killer and shook her head subtly. She and Killer exchanged silent stares, but Killer could not understand what she was trying to tell him. Had he done something wrong? She sighed and turned her attention to Seinfield and calmed him down with a soft hand on his armor.

"Never mind those solo players! I have never seen such fine armor before," she said. "Such strong armor! And your sword...oh my..."

The moment he had the maiden's attention again, Seinfield forgot all about his hate for solo players.

"Yes, ma'am. We at the ASL have the finest equipment on the front line!" And emboldened by the curious sparkle in her vivacious eyes, he launched into telling the tale of how he had through many pains on the eighth and ninth floor to upgrade his sword "The Night Edge" to +30 Sharpness and +20 Durability.

Charlotte continued to rest her hand on his armor and listened ardently to his tales. She fluttered her long eye lashes with wonder and fear as he told her of the dangers he braved to collect the materials and the quests he had gone through to attain his armor piece by piece.

Charlotte asked if she could have a look at his weapons and Seinfield heartily agreed. He took off his armor and weapons, and Charlotte examined them. Killer noticed that the playful sparkle in her eyes vanished and a pensiveness replaced it as she held his gear. She studied the stats and for a few moments, she didn't hear Seinfield or the many conversation around her and focused her attention solely on the gear.

When she was done, she turned her attention to Seinfield again, humored him, asked him foolish questions and touched him with every chance she got. Her gentle touch appeared to be inadvertent and she always withdrew with a feminine blush when she realized that she had gotten so close to him. She apologized demurely and admonished herself, but Seinfield only laughed and said that it was all right.

Starting from that point onwards, Killer watched Charlotte's smile somehow become more seductive and she flirted with him to no end. She teased him and asked him questions, and when he could not find an answer, she answered the question herself and made it appear as though he had answered it for her.

Whenever Seinfield asked her questions about herself, she was coy and divulged only the vaguest details; but he was so taken by her charm that it did not occur to him that she was avoiding his questions. Her long eye lashes, her gentle giggle and her soft lips were all he could see and her voice was like a gust that caressed the tenderness in his chest, stroking a passionate fire. Little did he know that Charlotte was acutely aware of how her charms affected him and used them so that he would not notice her lacking answers.

Upon Charlotte's suggestion, Seinfield orders drinks from the NPC innkeeper and his voice grew louder and merrier with every mug of ale he downed. The alcohol and Charlotte's coquettish airs gave him a courage he had never felt before and he put his arms around Charlotte's waist. She was coy and admonished him and wiggled in his strong arms, but she did not pull away—no, she inched even closer to him and pretended not to notice.

Since the men were too afraid of the Iron Maiden to approach her, Charlotte became the center of attention at the Golden Goose. When other players approached to talk to Charlotte, Seinfield chased them away with a steely flare and a curt remark.

When the meeting came to an end and the players began to leave the Golden Goose, Charlotte stood on unsteady knees—or at least she was pretending to be unsteady—and supported herself by leaning against Seinfield's chest. She declared quietly that she might have drunken a little too much—she drank less than a mug of ale—and that it would be difficult for her to go home tonight.

A rush of masculine pride rose in Seinfield's chest and he suggested that he escort her home, but Charlotte have him a petulant pout and said that she would like to hear more of his tales. She then subtly suggested that she stay the night at the Golden Goose; after all, every inn had a few rooms upstairs.

Although Seinfield had never been a gentleman—in or outside Aincrad—Charlotte made him feel as though he was a gentleman and he scolded himself for not noticing a lady's desire and making her speak such words out loud.

When they requested a room from the NPC innkeeper, Charlotte suddenly insisted that she pay for the room. "I am the one sleeping in it, it is only right if I pay for it." Seinfield found this rather odd and it jabbed at his pride, but he shrugged it off as one of those peculiarities that women sometimes had.

Killer had watched the farce unfold before him with amused bewilderment. There were many times when he had to stifle his laughter upon seeing Seinfield's captivated expression and hearing Charlotte's exaggerated way of speaking. Meeting Charlotte might have been dangerous for him, but at the very least it lifted his mood.

He had to admit that her acting was flawless; had he not met her before, he would have been fooled by her. Every touch, every moment of eye contact was calculated and deliberate.

What disconcerted Killer was not the fact that Charlotte could assume different personas on a whim, but that she was able to so flawlessly. He had never met anyone who could change her entire personality without any difficulty in such a short amount of time. Perhaps she was just a very talented actress and yet he could not help but feel intimidated by her ability. To him, she was dangerous. Too dangerous.

It dawned on him what Charlotte's scheme might be, but he was not convinced. He estimated that even if she was successful, it would not be enough to make a significant impact on the front line. The boss fight would go on with or without Seinfield.

As per Charlotte's instruction, Killer turned on his Hiding skill and gingerly followed the pair upstairs to the second floor where the guest rooms were located. He watched them enter a room.

It was a narrow hallway illuminated by an on lamp hanging off the ceiling every couple of steps. There was a single window at the end of the hallway that allowed some of the silver moonlight to enter (for the first time Killer noticed that there was a moon in Aincrad). The moonlight pulled his shadow into a long and narrow strip.

Every couple of steps was a door. All of them were locked and the only way to access them was to pay the NPC innkeeper a set fee.

Now Killer knew why Charlotte had wanted for him to join a party with her. Since she was inside the room and the door was locked, the only people who could open the door from the outside were fellow party members. This was a unique privilege only party members and married couples had—not even guild members could access the private rooms of fellow guild members.

In Aincrad, relationship between players were clearly defined. The highest relationship was marriage. Married players shared an inventory and could access every item, every room, every coin of col the significant other had. Party members could access each other's rooms and see each other's HP bars and guild members were essentially on the same ranking as strangers to each other. They shared nothing.

As far as Killer knew, there had been no marriages in Aincrad so far—but it was only the tenth floor after all.

Killer stood outside the room for a few minutes, knowing what Charlotte was doing inside.

When his gut feeling told him that it was time, he turned on his Hiding skill again and gingerly opened the door by just a crack.

* * *

And this is the seventh chapter. If you like this story, please drop a short view, I'd greatly appreciate any feedback :)


	9. To Share Charlotte's Bed

**Chapter 8**

 **To Share Charlotte's Bed**

It was a barren room with a large bed, a simple wooden table and a pair of chairs in the corner. It was a room designed for a front line player who had no time for luxuries and simply came here to rest his mind and body.

Seinfield and Charlotte were silhouetted against the warm light of the single oil lamp that illuminated the room. He was stripped to his boxers and sat at the edge of the bed. Charlotte wore only a thin silk nightgown that left her arms and shoulders bare and gave a view of her ample bosom. She straddled him and felt his hard chest while pressing her own soft body against his.

Killer swallowed. His heart beat so hard that he felt it might burst. He had expected a sight like this and yet he could scarcely maintain his calm. His flustered eyes were fixed on the sight before him, on her small back, her smooth skin; he so rarely witnessed moments of passion like this.

Charlotte lowered her head, licked Seinfield's earlobe and whispered something into his ear. Killer could not hear what she said and wondered what it might be. Seinfield nodded and Charlotte wrapped her arms around him. She ground her hips back and forth and elicited a deep moan from Seinfield. With one hand, she reached downwards and massaged his crotch. Her movements became more frantic. She breathed into his ear and whispered the words of a lover.

"Put your hands on me…touch me."

Seinfield wrapped his thick arms around her and his massive hands greedily caressed her soft body; he felt her breasts and thighs, her buttocks and her small back. He touched every place that was forbidden for a man to touch and Charlotte shivered with pleasure.

She pulled his face into her neck and she felt his rough back. Then, a window appeared right behind Seinfield's head. It was Charlotte's menu window.

Killer's eyes widened. He could see a blue button, _Affirmative_ , and a red button, _Cancel_.

"Seinfield, do you want me?" she breathed.

"Yes…I want you."

Charlotte giggled and pressed herself against his hardness. "Say it again."

"I want you Charlotte. I want to be inside you."

Charlotte pressed _Affirmative_.

Instantly, two hooded figured materialized out of thin air. Their faces were a pool of infinite darkness and they floated in the air without legs. It was the same character model the creator of Sword Art Online used when he appeared before the players to make the announcement of their imprisonment.

The two hooded figures raised their arms and their long robes gave sight to two bony grey hands. They grabbed Seinfield by his shoulders and brutally pulled him upwards. Seinfield cried out with sudden pain and struggled. Charlotte fell down onto the bed and peered up with a satisfied grin.

"Good bye," she waved. Her eyes were wide and there was a triumphant sparkle in her eyes and underneath that, a sliver of blank madness. Seinfield's heart grew cold with fright.

"Wait! What! Wait! Wai–" Before he could finish the last word, the two hooded figures dematerialized and Seinfield vanished.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"You can come out now," Charlotte said.

Killer rearranged his face into a neutral expression. He opened the door and stepped inside.

"Well, did you enjoy the show, Mister Pervert?" She sat cross legged on the bed, a satisfied smile of accomplishment on her lips.

Killer didn't answer. He took a chair from the corner of the room and sat down.

"Tell me how you did that."

Charlotte sat at the edge of the bed, and took a sharp breath. There was great pleasure to be had in explaining one's deceptive scheme after it was successfully executed.

"It's simple really," she said. "Inside the safe areas of towns and cities, a moral code applies. This code states that a male player may not touch a female player for prolonged periods of time. If one violates this code, the victim will see a window that gives the option of either allowing the passionate caresses or disallowing it and consequently sending the offender to Black Iron Prison on the first floor."

She got off the bed and stood before Killer with hands on her hips. "The prison time for the first offense is three months. For the second offense it doubles to half a year, and then for the third time it doubles to a year and so on."

Killer clapped unimpressed, almost sarcastically.

"Well, congratulations. You have indeed managed to lock away one of the most powerful players on the front line. And I can see how this ends for Seinfield: three months is an eternity in a game like Sword Art Online and in three months when he gets out of prison, even the mid-level players will have surpassed him. It will take him years to catch up with the front line."

"But," Killer paused for a moment, and then continued, "I don't see how this will impede the front line. The front line will advance even with Seinfield's absence and I doubt that you will be able to repeat this trick enough times in order to lock away a significant number of players. Rumors will spread and male players will become weary around female players."

While Killer spoke, there was amusement dancing in Charlotte's eyes and that didn't change even when he finished speaking.

She grabbed his hand. "Come. I want to show you something."

She pulled him to the bed and with an unexpected strength, she pushed him down and sat on top of him, straddling him with her thighs. She opened her menu window and set it to visible mode and gestured for Killer to sit up so that he could see it.

"Here is the moral code window, right. You can see that?"

Killer nodded.

Charlotte then selected several options and dived ten layers deep into the menu system. Killer had never gone past the first five layers. Most players didn't explore the menu beyond the first three layers.

"And here," she pointed to the last window at the end of a long chain of menu windows that floated in the air, "is the option to turn off the moral code."

She ticked the box, a warning message popped up to confirm her action and she pressed _Affirmative_.

She lowered her head and whispered into his ear: "With this turned off, you can touch me if you want...you can do everything Seinfield did and you won't go to prison. I won't allow you to go to prison."

She grabbed his right hand put it against her breast. He could feel her beating heart. "All men want this, all men want the same thing," she said with bated breath. "Everyone is the same; they all want something that they can't have."

With trembling hands, Killer grabbed her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length. Charlotte's mouth was half open, surprise written plain on her face.

"Why?" he growled. "Why me? What do you want from me?" He did not trust people—especially not such a seductive woman. And Charlotte's forthrightness raised alarm in his mind; especially because he found her so appealing.

Charlotte smiled gently. It wasn't a malicious or mocking or amused smile. It was a serene smile.

"I told you before Killer: you and I are cut from the same cloth. We have the same eyes. I know your brand of strength better than anyone else—and I want you with me." She grabbed is head and forced him to look at her. Killer saw unrelenting obstinacy in her eyes. "When there is something I want or that I like, I won't hesitate, I won't wait and I will go after it and I won't stop until I have it. I like you Killer or whatever you real name is. Like must be with like—and we are alike in so many ways. I saw what you are made of when I saved you in the dungeon—and you can get angry at me and protest and deny it, but I always recognize someone who is like me."

Killer did not argue. He had survived long enough to know sincere truth when it stared him in the face.

"But I still don't understand how you plan to slow down the front line with this method. What do you hope to achieve?"

Charlotte chuckled and whispered into his ear. "I'm only telling you this because I like you and I haven't told this to anyone—not even the members of my guild."

She bit his earlobe and licked it.

"Civil war."

Killer froze when he heard those words. _Civil war._

Before he could contemplate those words further, Charlotte pushed him down onto the bed with a petulant pout on her lips.

"Haven't you noticed something?" she asked.

Killer shook his head.

Charlotte sighed profoundly and lowered her head in mock defeat, her forelocks covering her eyes.

"Even Seinfield was more of a gentleman than you!" she cried with vexation. "There is a reason why I asked only you to come with me to the Golden Goose."

Killer shook his head in incomprehension.

"How can you make a girl say this herself," Charlotte squirmed and flushed velvet in the orange light of the oil lamp.

Killer could not tell if she was acting or if she was genuine. And that frightened him.

She pointed at the door and said: "I turned off the moral code and only party members can open the door…do you understand?"

Right now before him, she appeared not to confident leader who had successfully executed the first step in a mad scheme to spark a civil war, but bashful girl who had bared herself before the man she wanted. She slipped off her nightgown. "Are you not bewitched at all by my charms?"

"No man would not charmed by you."

She giggled gleefully. She lay down on top of him and whispered into his ear. "In this room, we are free to do whatever we want. No one can see us. No one can hear us. No one can judge us. Within these walls, this prison, we are free."

* * *

Outside the room, a player wrapped in a dark hood had his ear pressed against the wall. His Hiding skill and Listening skill were both over 200 and the walls of the _Golden Goose_ only protected its guest from a Listening skill of level 150 or below. He had been hiding inside the _Golden Goose_ since the beginning of the boss fight discussion meeting. No one had seen him. This player had the highest Hiding and Listening skill in all of Aincrad. In addition to Speed, these were the only skills he trained.

He was the first professional spy in Aincrad.

With bated breath, he listened to the sounds of passion that leaked out from beneath the door.

His keen ears caught the two guests in the room moaning each other's names while they desperately ground against each other. There was the sound of wet kissing and naked flesh slapping together. The bed squeaked and groaned beneath their wild movements.

And then finally, the woman cried out and the man let out a muffled groan and he heard them collapse on the bed, spent and satisfied.

He opened his menu window and duly sent a note to his client. Then he went downstairs, out of the inn and melted into the night.

* * *

And this is chapter 8! Thank you for reading! Please drop a review if you like this story :)


	10. Wretched People

**Chapter 9**

 **Wretched People**

 _1am, the third floor, Rovia, The Fishermans' Inn_

Once the clock struck midnight, a light drizzle fell from the skies of the third floor. The waterways of Rovia became a symphony of tiny splashes and the stone streets glistened with small puddles under the silver moonlight.

No one knew why it rained right after midnight—maybe it was part of the program responsible for the weather, or perhaps it was just coincidence. No one had managed to identify a weather pattern in Aincrad yet—not that it was a priority.

Liemans sat together with the other men of Charlotte in the Fishermans' Inn. He was furious.

"Why is he alive!" he demanded and slammed his fist down on the table, "Anna should have put him to the ground! Why is he alive?"

None of the men could answer him. They were just as angry as he was, but they dared not to actually answer the vice-commander of the Charlotte PK guild—Charlotte's right hand man.

Just then, a window appeared before Liemans with the information he had ordered from the first professional spy in Aincrad. It described in detail of what had happened, painting a vivid picture with illustrative words and even included a short sound clip. It wasn't very clear, but the voices of Killer and Charlotte could be clearly heard.

His eyes grew wide and he blindly reached for his mug of ale. He downed it in one gulp and slammed the table so hard that the wood broke in half and the table dissolved into a thousand glass shards. The NPC innkeeper immediately appeared by his side and politely requested that he compensate for the damage. Liemans shot him an acid glare, but the NPC innkeeper did not flinch; his parameters did not include the recognition of player emotions.

Liemans paid the fine and pushed the man away.

"Anna should have done her job," he growled, his voice shaking with fury.

It was so simple really. Killer ought to be dead by now. And yet here he was.

After he and his two men had failed to ambush Killer outside the tenth floor dungeon and had their weapons, armor, potions and col taken away by him, they had cowered together in the bushes, afraid to move a single muscle. Without their armor and weapons, almost any monster on the tenth floor forest could take out half of their HP in one strike. They prayed that no monster would wander to this corner of the forest.

He had messaged Charlotte desperately, but she could not come to their rescue. After she had saved Killer from the Minotaur, she herself was stuck in the dungeon; ALS players were swarming about and there was no way for her to get out without being noticed. She didn't want to be classified as solo player and wanted to remain unknown to the ALS. After all, she still had grand plans for the ALS and it was vital for Seinfield and the Iron Maiden to not recognize her.

Liemans and his two men were on their own. Shivering in the chill of the night, they waited. They waited for death, waited for life. On that night, the moonlight was faint and the rooftop of leaves did not allow for a thread of light to penetrate the infinite darkness of the forest. Even after their eyes had adjusted, Liemans and his men could scarcely see five steps in front of them. They had thought of making a wild dash for Ellensburgh, hoping that they could run past any mobs they encountered, but that idea was quickly dismissed as the mobs at nighttime surely had night vision and they could not outrun them while trying to dodge trees.

And after several hours, they saw the first ALS players exit the tenth floor dungeon. Among them was the famous Anna the Red. Even in their exhausted despair, Liemans and his two men were dazzled by her beauty.

Their first instinct was to run. After all, they were PK players and if the ALS discovered them...they shuddered when thinking about the consequences. No one wanted to end up on the blacklist of the all-powerful Aincrad Liberation Squad.

And just as they were about to leave their hiding place and try their luck with a desperate dash for safety, did an idea occur to Liemans. After so many hours, their orange status should have changed back to green. And even if they were still orange, right now they did not look like PK players; they wore only a tunic and cotton trousers and did not have so much as a dagger on them.

They were not PK players—they appeared like victims of a PK ambush.

Liemans grabbed his subordinates by their shoulders and told them about his plan. It was a big reckless deception, but still better than suicidal dash to Ellensburgh.

They all noticed the irony of such a plan, but no one argued against it.

They jumped out of their hiding place and threw themselves before Anna's feet, cowering before her austerity. They told her the best story that Liemans could think of as he talked; that the three of them were a simple party of three and that they were ambushed by PK players when they ventured too deep into the forest. He said that it was a new PK method invented by PK players: strip players of all their belongings in the wilderness and then leave them for dead. Why turn your own status from green to red when the mobs could do the dirty work for you?

Seinfield had roared with rage and demanded Liemans to describe the PK player to him. Liemans was about to do so—with pleasure—but then Anna the Red stopped him and pulled him to the side. She told Seinfield that she would personally address his matter. The man protested, but Anna ignored him. She outranked him, was of a higher level and had beaten him in every duel. Seinfield could not raise his voice against her or the Iron Maiden and swallowed his masculine pride.

And so Liemans only told Anna about what Killer looked like. He described Killer with every detail he could remember: his leather armor, his hair, his eyes, nose, face, lips, his voice and his weapons. As he described these details, Liemans noticed that there was no righteous indignation about her, no, instead, her expression was calm and feverish interest burned in her eyes. Liemans felt it was odd, but did not think about it more. All he wanted was for Anna to deal with Killer.

And yet—yet! Killer had stepped nonchalantly into the Fishermans' Inn and upon Charlotte's invitation too! Had Charlotte not been there, he would have attacked him right away. But this report from the anonymous spy he had hired was the final nail in the coffin.

He loved Charlotte and in his mind, no man should be allowed to seduce her.

"How should we deal with Killer then?" one of the men asked. "Charlotte seems to like him..."

"No, he has seduced her and that cannot be forgiven," Liemans said with absolute certainty in his voice. "And don't worry, I already have a plan for getting rid of Killer."

This piqued the mens's interest. They all turned to Liemans, waiting for him to explain.

"Killer that bastard has already shown us all his cards. We know that he uses throwing knives and daggers and we know the range of his sword. We know roughly what his level and stats are." His eyes swept across his men, all of them eager to hear more. He enjoyed this attention. He let the silence sit for a drawn out moment. "Next time we are in the wilderness, we will separate Charlotte and Killer into different groups. And once we get Killer away from Charlotte, we will surround him and each of us will sink our blades into him."

The men chuckled gleefully at that thought.

* * *

The next day, shortly before noon, Charlotte ordered for her men to gather at the Western Gate of the city of Ellensburgh. The men arrived at the agreed time, and Charlotte came together with Killer right before one in the afternoon.

There were many annoyed glares and frowns, but Charlotte did not pay attention to any of that as none of it was directed at her and whatever was not directed at her was not of her concern. Charlotte stood before the group and Killer struggled to find a place to stand where he felt comfortable, so he stood a step away from the group of fifteen men.

Once everyone had completed a gear check, Charlotte gave the order and everyone began to move out. When they were deep inside the wilderness forest, did Charlotte make another announcement; she had learned from an informant that the name of the Field Boss of this floor was called the _Bear Guardian_ that he would be hidden somewhere in this forest.

Liemans pointed out that this was rather odd; usually the Field Boss would be found somewhere before the boss room was discovered. The men agreed. Perhaps this Field Boss had something important regarding the boss fight?

"That is exactly what I thought," Charlotte said and nodded with approval. The men felt embolden by her praise. They all nodded vigorously in agreement. "Plus, no one has found the Field Boss yet, so if we find him, then we won't have to share— "

"Uhm," Killer interrupted and raised his hand. "The Field Boss is already dead. I killed him."

"What?" Charlotte frowned incredulously. "YOU killed the Field Boss? On your own?"

"Yeah, I - "

Liemans stamped up to Killer, his nostrils flaring.

"Impossible! How dare you!" Liemans grabbed Killer by the collar and raised him into the air. "Show me then! Show me proof that you have killed the Field Boss!"

Killer drew a long breath and sighed languidly, as though all of this was beneath him and he could be using this time to be doing something much more important. He opened his menu window and equipped the Guardian Fist, the Last Attack bonus he received from the _Guardian Bear._

The silver claw materialized around his left arm and for a moment, Liemans and his men forgot to breathe. The silver fist gleamed in the afternoon sunlight that dappled through the thicket of leaves and branches. Killer had taken good care of it and had yet to use it in combat; its smooth surface was flawless and sparkled like a piece of jewelry.

Without waiting for Liemans to let him go, Killer kicked him in the stomach. The kick took the wind out of him and he dropped Killer. And while Killer was falling to the ground, he swung his silver fist and struck Liemans's face. The vice-commander of the Charlotte PK guild flew back and his thick body thudded against a tree trunk. Killer's green crystal turned orange. It would remain so for a few hours.

Immediately, the men drew their swords. Using Quick Change, Killer equipped his Spring Rise. There was an annoyed expression on his face; he wasn't angry at Liemans or his men—he had expected nothing better from them—but rather he was irritated with himself for showing his secret weapon so easily. His gut instinct told him that Liemans desired revenge for what had happened outside the tenth floor dungeon. Killer also knew that he had exposed his fighting style to Liemans and the other guild members and the Guardian Fist was his only ace card—his last line of defense.

Liemans jumped to his feet with a thunderous roar, weapon in hand and charged Sword Skill ready to be released. His black eyes were blind with hate, his face screwed up with blind rage. His shoulder length black hair was a wildly disheveled, partially covering his eyes.

His cheap steel armor plate was dented by Killer's kick; after Killer had taken everything he had, Liemans and his men had to rely on the charity of their fellow guild members to afford new weapons and armor. Right now, they wore basic steel armor from the third floor and weapons bought from NPC shops on the fifth floor. It was barely enough for the tenth floor.

"Stand down! Stand down all of you!" Charlotte calmly stepped between Killer and the men. She spoke with cool authority, her arms relaxed and at her side with no intention of drawing her blade. She knew that her word was law.

She cleared her throat and continued. "We should not be fighting amongst ourselves. Killer agreed to be part of our guild. Any infighting will distract us from our goal of staying in Aincrad for as long as possible."

She turned to Liemans. His wide shoulders shrank like a scared animal under her reproachful eyes. "Liemans, your behavior towards Killer is unacceptable. You are the vice-commander of our guild; you ought to behave like one."

"Yes! My apologies!" He felt humiliated and knelt before Charlotte, apologizing earnestly. But when she turned her back to him, he looked at Killer and his eyes snapped with silent hate.

With the tension eased, the guild continued to venture deeper into the forest. This time, Charlotte ordered Killer to walk with her at the front while the rest of the men were a few steps behind. He could feel their loathsome glares on his back. Charlotte examined his Guardian Fist with the same studious eyes that she had when she examined Seinfield's gear. She touched it carefully, read the stats and asked Killer to temporarily give it her via a trade window so that she could try it on.

Killer honestly felt reluctant to give her his weapon—but he hid his feelings behind an obedient nod. He wanted to appear as though he trusted her blindly.

Behind him, Killer could almost hear the dark cursing that Liemans muttered under his breath. There were fifteen men with Liemans; if Charlotte was out of sight, Killer was sure that these men would pounce on him like a lion on an injured gazelle.

Charlotte made him tell her how he defeated the _Guardian Bear_ on his own and Killer only told her the story in the broadest strokes; it was not that he didn't want the glory of revealing his slice of genius; but the telling of such a story involved revealing his fighting techniques and he was not comfortable with that—especially with fifteen deadly glares on his back. Despite that, he told Charlotte about his fight in a low voice, hoping that the men behind him would not hear.

An hour later, Charlotte ordered the troop to halt. "We are well outside the ALS hunting grounds," she announced. "Since Killer already killed the Field Boss on his own," she paused and shot him a look of mock irritation. "we will train on regular mobs together."

Liemans raised his hand. "Miss Charlotte, I think it's rather inefficient to train together. We are already above the average level of mobs on this floor; we should split up into two groups."

The men nodded in audible agreement.

And then Liemans added: "Perhaps Killer could train with my group; as the vice-commander I would like to see how he fights…so that we can work better together."

"Hmm," Charlotte murmured and cast a pensive gaze over the fifteen odd men. She nodded. "You are right, Liemans."

Liemans turned to Killer and stretched out an eager arm. Killer's jaw tightened; there was a deadly glitter in Liemans's eyes. Killer knew eyes like that. He had seen them many times.

Charlotte took Killer by his arm and pulled him close to her. "Killer will come with me. As the leader of our guild, I will observe Killer's fighting style and decide on how he will fit into our strategies. Liemans, you as the vice-commander will split everyone into groups and train. I expect a report on our progress in the evening."

"But—" Liemans began to object, but Charlotte had already pulled Killer with her.

"Mark this point on your maps! We rendezvous here in five hours," she ordered. "Don't be late!"

* * *

Killer was glad that he was not paired together with Liemans or any of the other men for training. But at the same time he was worried that Charlotte's apparent attachment to him would only serve to stroke their jealous anger and increase his chances of getting killed.

They ventured into a different part of the forest—a good half an hour away from where they left Liemans—and the whole time Charlotte had skipped ahead, humming a tune which Killer did not recognize.

The scenery changed rapidly; thick oak trees were replaced by a mixture of walnut trees and maple trees. There was more grass on the forest floor and even the chirping of the birds sounded different. It all felt incredibly odd to Killer and was yet another reminder that none of this was real; in the real world, the forest vegetation would not change so drastically in just a few steps.

He had to admit that under the drops of sunlight which leaked through the forest roof, Charlotte made a beautiful sight; her wavy purple hair was loose and it swung left and right as she skipped ahead. Her arms swung back and forth in a carefree manner and her uneven purple skirt seemed to be even shorter than usual. He noticed that for today's excursion, she had changed into a charcoal black corset; this one was made out a hardened leather that offered a significant upgrade in defense value while not sacrificing on flexibility and movement—although it did add quite a bit of weight that lowered her maximum speed a tad. At the sides of the corset were white silk strings that had a silver hook which attached to the hem of her skirt.

Killer felt that she was even more beautiful than she was last night; in the dim light of the room, he could only see bits and pieces of her—but he felt everything. Here in the afternoon, the peace of the forest lent a serenity to her aggressive beauty, a grace that he did not notice before.

She looked up and admired the vivacious green and orange of the forest. She breathed in deeply and Killer gulped as her bosom stretched the leather of the corset. A gentle breeze touched her skirt and lifted it slightly.

The lines of obstinate austerity on her face softened and was replaced by an easy relaxed smile. She closed her eyes and listened to the silence of the forest.

This sight of Charlotte made Killer stop for a moment. The calmness about her was infectious; he felt a sense of peace and his shoulder felt lighter and he forgot about what he still had to do in the real world. He was drawn into a sense of sedentary tranquility, a promise that everything was all right—even when it wasn't.

Killer grimaced. He hated the fact that he loved this feeling.

The silence was disrupted by the crunching of leaves under Killer's heavy boot.

Charlotte exhaled irritatedly through her mouth and turned to Killer.

"You know, you are a greedy one, aren't you?" she said. "Taking the Field Boss and all the rewards for yourself..." She shook her head and her eyes fell on the Guardian Fist that Killer still had equipped. With her hands behinds her back, she leaned forwards, her eyes peering imploringly up at him. "What else did you get from the Guardian Bear? Don't give me that look, Killer. Don't worry, I won't force you to give anything to me."

The corners of Killer's mouth were pulled downward, and he tried to think of excuses, but he had to give into her beseeching gaze and the sight of her cleavage. He opened his menu window, set it to visible mode and showed her the fur, fangs and bear fat he had gotten from the Guardian Bear. "I don't know what to do with the Guardian Bear Fat," Killer said. "I remember on the third floor, I needed bear fat for the ship building quest, but here on the tenth...it can't be used to upgrade armor or weapons and none of the NPC shopkeepers can tell me what it is good for."

"Hmm," Charlotte murmured as she poked and prodded the bear fat and weighed it in her hand. "Maybe we will find out on the eleventh floor."

"Maybe."

Afterwards, the two of them began to train. Since the _Bear Guardian_ was gone, Charlotte and Killer attacked mobs that appeared to be upgraded forms of the first floor mobs. There were plenty of wild bears and boars, but these made the first floor mobs appear like adorable dolls; they had extended tusks and gleaming claws and attacked immediately upon spotting a player. Their speed had also increased, leaving a player with only precious few seconds to respond.

In order to assess his fighting style, Charlotte had Killer attack mobs on his own at first. Once he entered combat, Killer's concentration narrowed down on the enemy and attacked with the same callousness he showed when he slaughtered the _Bear Guardian_ ; he used mainly manual attacks that did not rely on the system-assisted sword skills and when he parried attacks, there were many times when Charlotte yelled 'Switch!', but Killer had no idea what that meant and continued to fight on his own—even if he risked receiving heavy damage. His face was a merciless blank.

"Gezz," Charlotte sighed. "You really are a solo player, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" Killer took out a potion from his inventory and gulped it down.

"See? You have to drink a potion now, don't you? Don't you know anything about pot rotation and skill-cool down rotation?"

Killer looked at her quizzically.

Charlotte shook her head in exasperation. "Pot rotation means that you switch out with a party members during a fight so that you have some time to drink a potion and recover while you are either in delay or skill cool-down. Switching out like this during combat lowers your chances of getting hit, keeps your concentration sharp and is just generally more efficient."

"I've always been alone, I've always fought alone," Killer shrugged and then added, "I never thought that I would have to fight with anyone else."

"Hmmm?" Charlotte tilted her head and there was a penetrating gleam in her eyes that demanded more information. "Somehow I think you mean that this isn't just in Aincrad, but you also mean in the real world?"

Killer averted his gaze and gritted his teeth. His neutral expression was strained. This is what he feared about being with Charlotte; being around her made him careless and she picked up on even the tiniest nugget of information.

"Well, you don't have to tell me now if you don't want to," Charlotte stepped closer and peered into his eyes. She sensed bitter contempt in them—contempt for what? The world? Her? Himself? "But believe me," she continued and her face became a blank while her lips carried the hint of a greedy smile. "One day you will tell me. Maybe not today or tomorrow or even on the eleventh floor—but I always get what I want."

Next, it was Charlotte's turn to show Killer what she was capable of. She fought as though she were the wind. Her movements were fluid and smooth as she anticipated the monster's next move. She used a combination of system-assisted sword skills and manual strikes during combat. Unlike Killer, she did not carry that callous expression on her face when she fought; no, she fought with exuberance. She loved the rush of the wind, the sensation of utter freedom in this virtual world. Her wavy purple hair glimmered like a brilliant vista of flowers in the afternoon sun. Killer's movements were hard and rigid while Charlotte fought with grace and precision.

"Pay attention!" she shouted at Killer, who was mesmerized by her movements. She parried the bear's claw and yelled "Switch!" and jumped back. "Now! Attack him!" Killer grabbed his Spring Rise and rushed into the opening that Charlotte had created and finished off the bear. The experience points and rewards were shared among the two.

"See? That is how you fight in a party," Charlotte said with a satisfied breath.

Killer closed the reward window. It felt strange really; this was the first time he had fought together with someone else, worked together this closely and formed a temporary bond of intense trust in the midsts of combat. It created a bizarre warmth in his chest; he wasn't sure if he liked it.

"Did you like fighting like that? It's a lot safer this way, no?"

Killer shrugged. "It wasn't too bad."

* * *

It was an hour later when their training session was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. At first Killer thought that it might be Liemans coming to check on Charlotte or perhaps it was the ALS or another guild expanding its hunting territory, but it turned out to be a group of children.

There were six children around the age of nine to thirteen—four boys and two girls—dressed in the starter gear that could be bought from any NPC shop in the Town of Beginnings. Leading them was the oldest girl; she was thirteen years old, taller than the others, had broad shoulders, a flat nose and an air of pompousness about her. Her shoulder length brown hair was tied into a tight pony tail that only served to make her freckled round face appear even larger.

It was Killer who spotted the intruders first.

"Charlotte! Look!" Killer whispered and gestured for her to come over. From behind a tree, Killer and Charlotte observed these children. What were they doing here? With gear like that, they shouldn't be anywhere but the lowest level hunting grounds on the first floor. "Those…those are children, right? What the hell are they doing on the tenth floor?"

"If we don't stop them, they will die," Charlotte said with certainty.

Killer nodded in agreement.

They came out of their hiding place and immediately, the oldest girl drew her basic Medium Sword. "Get ready!" she barked. "This will be our first fight!" The other children inched back apprehensively and clumsily drew their own basic Short Swords.

"Hey, hey, calm down. We are adults—not monster." Charlotte wore the kindest of smiles on her face. "Sweetheart, what are you doing here? This forest is so dangerous."

Killer frowned. Dangerous was an understatement. It was a miracle that these kids had made it this far into the forest without getting killed.

"Honey, what is your name?" Charlotte pointed at the chubby girl who was clearly the leader.

"Lily!" Her voice was loud and boisterous. Her fat lips appeared to be in a permanent pout.

Killer drew a sharp breath and froze. _Lily_. It was a name that that brought forth many memories—bitter and sweet.

"Lily, what are you and your friends doing here?"

"We are here to train and join the front line!"

"Train and join the front line?" The corners of Charlotte's eyes crinkled with amusement. "But why here, Lily? This place is too dangerous."

Lily raised her double chin. Her small eyes narrowed with imperiousness. "The Aincrad Liberation Squad came to the first floor and talked to all of us! They...they gave a speech! They said that we all have to contribute to the front line and fight for our liberation. The...the—the outside help isn't coming!"

"Oh really?" Charlotte smiled kindly.

"Yes! The Iron Maiden said that we need to train and grow stronger and donate our col to the Aincrad Liberation Army so that we can be freed!"

"Honey, that wasn't a speech; that was propaganda." Charlotte tried to pat Lily on the head, but she dodged her hand.

Killer cast his gaze on the other kids and shook his head with dismay. The ALS had given a pretty speech, but had failed to give out any kind of equipment that might help new recruits survive. But to target these children with their recruitment speeches—or propaganda...Killer grimaced.

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath. The ALS was sending these kids to their deaths.

Among the group of children did he see a boy and a girl. The boy raised his little hand and made a silent wave. Killer blinked and it took him a moment to recognize those two; they were the two children he had given some col to during the thunderstorm on the first floor. They still wore the same shoddy rags and had rusty short swords in their dirty little hands.

Silent rage rose in Killer's throat. He could already see what had happened to the money he gave to those kids. The ALS probably coaxed the residents of the first floor to give them donations and bullied these children to give up everything they had.

"Lily, it is too dangerous here," Charlotte said, her voice a gust of love. "Come with me. I will take you back to Ellensburgh. Really, it is just too dangerous for you children to be out in the wilderness. Are you not afraid of the monsters? They could kill you with one hit. Come now, come with me."

Charlotte grabbed her little hand, but Lily yanked herself free.

"No!" Her eyes were obstinate. "We are going to train here! Here! The Aincrad Liberation Army told us— "

Suddenly, Charlotte's face lit with black fury. So fast did she change that Killer took a step back. She grabbed the girl's shoulder and Killer thought that she was going to slap her, but instead, she kicked the girl in the stomach. Lily flew in the air and landed several feet away. Charlotte's cursor turned from green to orange.

Killer was too stunned to react. His jaw dropped.

Charlotte stamped over to where the Lily lay, grabbed her by the collar, lifted her into the air and slammed her against a tree.

"Look you little shit," she growled. "Do you want to die that badly? Is that it? On this floor there are monsters ten times stronger than me and you can't do anything against me. How do you think you will survive? Hmmm?"

The other children began to cry, and they frantically turned their little heads, looking for an adult to rely on and they found Killer.

"Charlotte, that's enough!" Killer raised his voice for the first time. The remaining children all cowered behind him, clutching his trousers.

Charlotte dropped the girl and turned to Killer and the other children. Her eyes were smiling again and all the anger was gone. "Come now children, Killer and I will take you back to safety."

With a stern look, Killer ordered for Charlotte to step aside and stay far away from the children. She surprisingly obeyed without resistance. He then picked up Lily and cradled her in his arms until her shocked sobbing subsided. With one kick, Charlotte had destroyed her childish insolence and given birth to a fear that would be part of her nightmares for years to come.

When he had calmed the children down, he told them that he would take care of them and that he would take them back to town—back to safety—and reminded them that children may never leave the town.

At first the children did not trust Killer as his tired bitter eyes did not inspire trust in their innocent hearts, but the little boy and girl he helped on the first floor evidently recognized him and drew close to him and that caused the other children to follow suit.

On the way back, Killer walked in front and ordered for Charlotte to be the rear. Charlotte did not stay in the back for long. She joined Killer in the front.

"I'm sorry," she said petulantly.

"You scared the living hell out of these kids," Killer sighed. "What were you thinking?"

"I'm just not good with children—especially those insolent fat ones like that girl. They just rub me in the wrong way and then I just want to beat them and..."

She was meek and timid and did not speak with any of the exuberance she had before. She felt ashamed to have shown this side of her.

"But you are surprisingly good with children," Charlotte remarked. "You handled that fat little girl really well in your arms."

"You make me sound like a pervert."

"No, really, I mean it sincerely."

Killer smiled wryly and shook his head. "No, I'm not good with kids. Didn't you see? None of the kids like me either, that is why they keep a distance from me. It's just that you are too scary."

"Well..." Charlotte struggled to find a retort and sunk into mortified silence.

"They only came to me because that little boy and girl recognized me. Remember the col and items I took from...what was his name again? Right, Liemans. Liemans and his men? I gave all of their col to those two kids."

"You are a surprisingly decent man," Charlotte commented.

"I like children, that's all," Killer said. "I like them because they dare to dream and don't know how to lie—yet. Somehow, it is when we become adults that we become either great or pathetic or both."

"By pathetic do you mean those on the first floor?"

"I have no sympathy for those at the bottom floor," Killer spat. "They just sit there and wait for someone to come to help them. I see them and I just feel...it just angers me to see them waiting like that.

"But what annoys me is that they are blaming the beta testers for their pitiful state. The beta testers took all the resources and that is why I was left behind! Everyone rushed ahead and now there is nothing left!" The corners of Killer's mouth curled with disgust. "It's true that in the beginning on the first floor, the beta testers hogged the best hunting grounds and the best quests and got a head start. But the first floor is the size of Tokyo! The largest city in the world! There were more than enough resources for everyone. I had nothing as well—hell, I didn't even plan on playing this damned game, but I still managed to catch up to the front line. On the first floor, the only thing you needed to thrive was the will to go forward—that's all."

Charlotte listened attentively and her heart rose upon hearing those contemptuous words. This was the first time that Killer had allowed himself to speak so openly before her—even though he did not realize it himself.

She was right after all; like must be with like and she and Killer were alike. They were cut from the same cloth. She recognized the tired bitterness in his eyes, the resilient fighting spirit that would not yield and yet was too cynical to continue.

And she too despised those on the first floor who complained and would do nothing to stand up again. Those who acted like the world owed them something. And even though she detested them, she still had a plan to make use of them.

The biggest difference between her and Killer was that she knew how to push her past emotions aside and start anew in Aincrad while Killer was still tied to the world outside Aincrad. There was something that would not allow him to let go and she had a feeling that she knew what it was.

Charlotte smiled ruefully. "Well, to be honest, I was like that too. I sat on the first floor and watched the front line advance to the second floor, then the third and finally the fourth. I didn't pick myself up until around the fifth floor was breached. For me it was a vacation—a holiday. And I suspect that many of those players it's the same, because in the real world, they probably are full-time working adults."

"Really now?" Killer raised a curious eyebrow. This was the first time Charlotte had let a nugget of information about herself leak. "So you were one of them? A working adult?"

Charlotte realized her carelessness and quickly close her mouth. Killer laughed softly.

"You know, it's rude to ask about a person's real world identity in Aincrad," she chided him.

"Hmm, I guess so."

"Since you now know something about me, I want to ask something about you."

Killer pursed his lips apprehensively. This was the old Charlotte returning: bullish, obstinate and shrewd. "Yeah, go on."

"Who is Lily?"

"Lily?" Killer pointed his thumb at the fat little girl who now hid behind the children who were all smaller than her.

Charlotte shook her head. "You murmured her name in your sleep last night at the Golden Goose. You know, after you and I..."

She cast her eyes demurely to the ground and fluttered her eyelashes.

Killer did not notice her coquettish behavior. His heart beat wildly against his chest. His gut felt cold.

"Who is Lily?" Charlotte asked again, a note of disquiet in her voice. "Is she your girlfriend? Lover? Fiancé?"

Killer laughed bitterly. It was a chilling laugh that surprised even Charlotte. "No, she is none of those."

"But she must be important to you, right?"

Killer murmured so quietly that Charlotte could not hear. "She is the only one that matters."

"Do you think she was with you during the Great Separation?"

"The what?" Killer asked confusedly.

"You know, at the beginning of the first floor when all of us disconnected for a few hours and then reconnected. They probably transported our bodies to a hospital for long term care. Do you think she was with you? In the real world."

Killer face grew dark. "My body isn't in a hospital."

Charlotte instinctively wanted to ask more, but Killer's expression was so grim that she decided to leave this subject alone—for now. Instead, she fell into a silence and listened to the serenity of the forest.

It was Killer who unexpectedly broke the silence. "Our bodies, huh?" he mumbled and glanced back at the children who were following. "These children...I guess the oldest among them are twelve or thirteen?"

Charlotte waited for him to continue.

"These kids need to go back to the real world, they can't stay here," Killer said. "No one knows what is going to happen, but during puberty, the human body changes a lot. What will happen to these kids when their bodies start changing but their mind are stuck in here?

"And imagine if we are stuck in here for years...even if it is just two years or maybe three. Three years for these children is much longer than it is for us. They will fall behind in education...in mental development...their lives. There is so much before them."

Charlotte smiled ruefully, her eyes cast pensively to the ground. "Maybe I'm just too selfish. I know it's bad for these children, but I still can't go back."

She let out a forlorn sigh. "What's there in life anyway? Once you are done with school, you find a job and for the rest of your life you go to work and back. Work and back. There is no time to visit family and friends—the people you care about. You work your hardest to keep your job, and at the end you are so tired that you can't do anything in your free time. You can't think, you can't do anything. And after you pay your rent and bills, what is left? Not much. Pay your bills, your taxes and...what."

She looked up at Killer and her eyes were brimming with despair. "Killer, I'm doing quiet well in reality, the real world, you know? I have a nice apartment with a nice leather sofa, a big TV and air conditioning...a kitchen I never use and a bed I seldom sleep in. I'm so comfortable...and yet none of it made me happy."

Killer could only smile slightly. It was a miserable smile. "We are wretched people, aren't we?"

* * *

Killer and Charlotte took the children back to Ellensburgh and sent them through the teleportation portal back to the Town of Beginning with a stern warning that if they should ever want to venture out into the wilderness again, they should come find "big sister" Charlotte or "big brother" Killer.

"Damn the ALS." Killer breathed with relief once the kids were sent off. "To go as far as recruiting kids...these bastards. Serves Seinfield right to be in prison."

Charlotte looked at him quizzically. "I thought out of all people, you wouldn't be against the ALS recruiting children."

"What makes you say that?"

For a silent moment, her eyes measured him, studied him. "I mean, you look like the kind who had to fend for himself from a young age."

"And that is why I don't want other kids to experience the hell I've been through."

There was silent surprise in her eyes. "You are a good man, Killer."

"Speaking of recruitment; have you recruited other players besides me?" Killer asked.

"Ho? What makes you ask that?"

"If the ALS is growing, then so must we if you want to be able to slow them down effectively."

"You are smarter than you look."

Killer scowled at her, but Charlotte only laughed.

"Answer me."

Charlotte fluttered her eyelashes coyly and spun on her heel. She spoke reticently about her new recruit. "Yes...I have recruited one more person. That one is helping us slow down the front line by acting as a spy. She is very good at her job."

"Who is he?"

Charlotte raised an amused eyebrow. "Don't worry about that Killer. Our spy is strong…very strong. Stronger than you, I'd wager."

"How strong?" Killer asked, annoyed.

"Hmm, about as strong as Asuna the Flash."


	11. The Hunt for the Mist Bird

**Chapter 10**

The next day, Killer was summoned to the Fishermans's Inn on the third floor. He had received a note from Charlotte, requesting for him to meet her there on the upstairs floor, the second room to the right at 10am.

"Make sure that you are alone," she added.

As per her request, Killer double backed and walked some circles before he headed to the teleport plaza on the first floor and said: "Rovia". He would have done the same even without Charlotte reminding him; after all, old habits die hard.

Killer followed her instructions and opened the second door on the right on the second floor of the Fishermans's Inn. He found Charlotte wearing a loose shirt with short sweatpants. For a moment, he was a little stunned; it was the first time he had seen her wear anything beside her armored corsets and uneven skirt. It felt rather odd to clothes from the outside world inside this medieval virtual world.

She sat before a desk with her legs crossed and her menu window set to desktop mode. It was a feature that few players in the game used; it was four layers deep in the menu and was only usable when one sat at a desk at an inn. Once this condition was met and the option was selected, the menu expanded into a 21.5-inch holographic screen that floated in the air. This desktop mode allowed for in-depth manipulation of the window menu that revealed features that would otherwise be locked away; there was a Word document feature (aptly named _Aincrad Writer_ ); there was a Photoshop app, an expanded messaging system that had a dictionary and emojis built in and also a document export feature that allowed a player to print hard copies of their pictures and documents free of charge. The desktop mode also summoned a holographic keyboard and Charlotte typed furiously on it. Her eyes were focused intently on the screen. She did not notice that Killer had entered the room.

Killer cleared his throat to make his presence known. "You called?"

Charlotte looked up and with a swipe, moved the holographic screen to the side.

"Killer, please sit down."

Killer sat down on the chair before her desk. He was surprised by her formal tone of speech. It was the same tone she used to give orders to Liemans and her other men. He took a silent breath; his gut feeling told him that his meeting would be different from his first meeting with her.

He had no idea what she wanted. Yesterday afternoon, after they had escorted Lily and the other children to Ellensburgh, Charlotte had received a message and promptly disappeared without a word.

"Right, I will get to the point," Charlotte said and opened a message from her menu window. Killer could only see a black square where the message window floated; she had not set it to all-party visible mode. "I want our guild to participate in the boss fight of the tenth floor."

"What?" Killer frowned incredulously.

Charlotte ignored him and continued. "I have already sent a request to the Aincrad Liberation Squad for our guild to be allowed to join the tenth floor boss fight—why do you think I made all of you train in the Western Forest? But last night I received a reply. You see, there is a condition for joining the boss fight."

Killer remained silent. He waited for Charlotte to continue.

"The ALS has set up several players guarding the boss room, preventing anyone from assembling their own raiding party to take on the boss. We must fulfill their condition before we are allowed to enter the boss room…it wasn't always this way," she sighed profoundly. "In the past, until the seventh floor or so, anyone who had the right level and could survive in the dungeon was allowed to join the boss fight. But now, the ALS has taken full charge."

Killer remembered how the ALS kicked him and other players out of the tenth floor dungeon and commanded the boss fight meeting at the Golden Goose. At both instances, the ALS was almighty and imperious.

Killer thought of how Lily—the fat little girl that Charlotte scarred for life—told of how the ALS came down to the first floor and ordered for everyone to contribute to the front line. He felt a pulse of rage rise in him. It disgusted him how the ALS acted with self-assumed legitimacy. They behaved like a government—a dictatorship.

Killer pointed this out and Charlotte nodded.

"You are right. The ALS is beginning to behave like a government because they have more guild members than anyone else and they use their large number to claim legitimacy. They are beginning to dominate and that is causing consternation among the other guilds and solo players."

She then smiled slightly. "But, the ALS only has size. Even though they have hundreds of members, the ALS only has a handful of top class players like the Iron Maiden who can actually participate in a boss fight. They still cannot put together a full raiding party that can defeat the boss; wether they like to admit it or not, they are still heavily dependent upon solo players and other guilds to advance to the next floors."

Charlotte turned her gaze towards the message window she had open and her brows furrowed.

"But," she added and her voice grew quiet. "Because the ALS has grown so powerful, boss fights have become more efficient—especially since the Iron Maiden, Anna the Red and Seinfield have taken the reins of leadership from Kibaou that old fool."

"How come the boss fights are more efficient?" Killer asked. "If they are more powerful and the other guilds don't like it, then shouldn't the boss fights become a mess?"

Charlotte shook her head. "I thought that might happen, but only the early boss fights were unorganized. During the early floors, the ALS and the Dragon Knight guild were about equal and were constantly bickering and that made boss fights a deadly mess. It seems that other guilds have realized that and are begrudgingly giving into the dominance of the ALS because it is clear how efficient their leadership is."

Killer understood her words, but he still couldn't understand what her intention was. "If the boss fights are so efficient because of the ALS, then why do you want to join them if you want to slow down the front line? If your plan is to disrupt the boss fight inside the chamber, then that plan won't work beyond the tenth floor because we will be banned from the next boss fight."

Charlotte smiled all knowingly—as though Killer were a child and his thoughts amused her in their elementariness.

"Well, there are several reasons," she said. "The first is that I have never been part of a boss fight before and I want to see what it is like."

"What?" Killer exclaimed. He looked at her incredulously, unable to believe how carefree she was.

"I love Aincrad and boss fights are the most intense part of Aincrad," Charlotte shrugged. "Only the most elite players are allowed to join the boss fights and up until the ninth floor, our guild was too weak. But with you and I at the top and Liemans and the others only a few levels behind us, we meet the basic criteria for joining."

A mad glitter sparkled in her eyes. "Boss fights are the ultimate crossing of life and death. You enter that chamber and you don't know what will happen. Isn't that exciting? It's that sense of uncertainty which makes life worth living."

She turned her desktop window around and showed Killer a picture of the Iron Maiden. In that picture, she had taken off her iron-clad leather coat and stood at the teleport plaza of the Town of Beginnings in only her white tunic and metal-plated leather skirt. It made a handsome picture—her shapely thighs, her slim waist and her silver hair shining brilliantly under the sun. Behind her stood Seinfield and Anna the Red.

"She the second reason why I want to join the boss fight," Charlotte said. "We've already weakened their leadership by getting rid of her righthand man, Seinfield, but my sources tell me that is not enough. Know thy enemy. The only way to slow down the front line is to know how they fight—how she fights."

Killer couldn't hide the doubt in his eyes. "And this will help you create the civil war you mentioned before?"

"Hmm, yes, civil war," Charlotte pursed her lips pensively. "Democracy needs to be established in order to slow down the front line. Civil war will stop all efforts of the front line."

Charlotte chuckled maliciously and she grinned from ear to ear. Killer suppressed a shudder. Her eyes gleamed with determination. Her expression was devoid of even a hint of doubt. Killer had seen such faces before; their owner always achieved what they wanted.

"Isn't it ironic?" she asked, but Killer could only look at her confusedly. She continued. "In the real world, democracy is equivalent to freedom. But in this world, we will use democracy to stop the pursuit for freedom."

"I don't understand..." he began, but was cut off when Charlotte leaned across the table.

Her wild carefree eyes were penetrating, all-seeing and seemingly all knowing. "I love that confusion in your eyes," she purred. "You don't understand anything that isn't about life and death, gold and col and dollars and cents. You are too down to earth, too realistic, too practical to understand what I mean."

And then she added: "But that isn't a bad thing. I like your practicality. I need it to fulfill the condition according to the deadline the ALS has set."

Killer gulped. _This is it_ , he thought. This was his chance to find out about Charlotte's plans. "If you want me to help you, then you will have to tell me what your plan is. I don't understand how you plan on building a democracy in Aincrad, and I don't understand how a democracy will slow down the front line and give birth to a civil war that you say will bring an end to the boss fights."

Charlotte closed the desktop window and formed a bridge with her fingers and rested her chin on them. "Curious now, aren't you?" She giggled. "All right, sure, Killer. Help me get into the boss chamber and I will tell you...everything."

"Fine," Killer agreed. "So what is that condition that the ALS gave you?"

Charlotte let out a sharp breath that was almost a sigh. "A troublesome thing they ask of me; they want me...our guild, to contribute intel regarding the boss in order to be allowed to fight it."

* * *

Killer left the city of Ellensburgh and ventured out into the forest. He already had a good guess as to which quest might lead to information regarding the Mist Eagle; the _Hunt for the Mist Bird_ was a quest he had started earlier before it was disrupted by Anna the Red. The title of the quest sounded familiar in name and if that was anything to go by, then it should be able to provide at least some kind of clue.

Franky speaking, he had no interest whatsoever in the boss fight, but he wanted to find out what Charlotte's plan was for building a democracy that would lead to civil war. And if he wanted to know that, then he had to help her get into the boss room.

He reached behind his back and felt his daggers White and Black. He needed to know her plans in order to fulfill his own plans.

He trekked through the forest, the sunlight leaking through the dense roof of leaves and branches. The branches soughed languidly in the lazy afternoon breeze. He breathed deeply. He listened to the chirping of the birds, the ruffling sound of leaves. Killer did not smile, but his heart was at ease. It was only here in this forest were he would feel safe—this forest which was the most dangerous part of the tenth floor. A place without rules.

But his peace was disturbed by thoughts of Charlotte. Her personality disconcerted him. She was a mercurial woman to say the least; she could be demure and cast coquettish airs; and within a moment she could change into a cool leader who spoke with cold formality, matching the air of the Iron Maiden.

On one hand he felt that she had shown him everything; she had shown him her seduction technique with Seinfield, she had shown part of her plans to damage the Aincrad Liberation Squad and she had revealed her bare body to him and allowed him to touch her in the most secretive places of a lady. She had laid in his arms, whispered words of a lover into his ear, teased him, tickled him—and yet he felt that he knew almost nothing about her. He felt that he had caught only fleeting glimpses of who she might truly be—like that time when she had savagely kicked Lily and when she told him of the despair she faced in reality. He now knew that was no carefree student, but someone who had experienced the harshness of reality. He knew that she loved Aincrad. And even though he would never openly admit it to himself, he knew that they were cut from the same cloth. And that is why he despised her as much as he loved her.

And despite that all that, he could not quite decipher what lay at the bottom of her dancing eyes which switched between the sparkle of a pure hearted maiden and the gleam of a madman.

Killer wandered aimlessly through the forest until he climbed a hill and discovered that the other side of it ended in a cliff. From this vantage point, he could gaze out upon the rest of the Western forest and he could see the edge of the tenth floor—the literal edge of the world. The Western Forest sprawled to the edge of the world, with a few lakes of brilliant blue and snuggly small villages sprinkled here and there. The location of these villages was rather surprising; usually such villages would be located closer to the main city of a floor and not this deep into the wilderness.

Perhaps there is a clue regarding the location of the Mist Bird, Killer thought.

He turned on his heel and was about to descend from the hill when he heard the sound of steps emerging from the trees.

"Who goes there?" a voice sounded. Killer recognized this voice. He drew his Spring Break.

Liemans emerged from behind the trees and behind him were ten other men. Upon seeing Killer, he smiled with a sardonic chuckle.

"Well, look who we have here." Liemans stepped closer. "You are alone out here, Killer?"

Killer stood frozen. To his left and right, Liemans's men have formed a semi circle, cutting off any path for escape.

"I came here with Charlotte," Killer lied.

"Oh, and where is she now?"

"She is hunting mobs on her own nearby," Killer said nonchalantly. "She sent me here to gain a vantage point."

"Did she now?" Liemans chuckled, and raised a dubious eyebrow. "This morning she told me that she would be busy with business in town all day."

"Fuck," Killer swore silently. He's been had. He had hoped that Liemans might have a lack of information regarding Charlotte and that might be his way out, but information was power and Liemans had more information than he did.

Killer rubbed his thumb and index finger together. He had the Guardian Fist ready in the Quick Change slot and he had already drawn his Spring Break while Liemans and his men still had their swords sheathed. If he equipped the Guardian Fist now and charged at Liemans, then he might be able to clear a path for just a fraction of a moment.

"Say, what are you doing here?" Killer asked.

"Just some level grinding—Charlotte's orders," Liemans said with carelessness in his voice. His eyes fell on Killer with a violent gleam. "We were hunting for high reward mobs, but it looks like I have found myself something better." He laughed sardonically and his men joined. Killer remained deadly silent.

He put his hand to the hilt of his sword and his men followed suit.

Killer's left hand twitched and opened the Quick Change menu. All emotion was gone from him; his focus was on every moment that passed. His eyes were on Liemans's throat; he could deal some fatal damage there—after all, old habits die hard.

There was the sudden sound of uniform marching. The tension in the air froze. Liemans, Killer and the other men stood still, their ears focused on the new arrival. Where was the sound coming from?

"What is that?" Liemans barked. His men didn't answer; they didn't know either.

"Quiet!" Killer hissed and turned to the cliff. He got down onto the ground peered over the edge. About fifty meters below, he could see a sea of tall pointy pine trees. Killer frowned. This cliff must be some sort of marker for different parts of the Western Forest; behind him were ancient oak trees and just over this cliff only pine trees. It was as if the level designers have copied and pasted the same trees over large chunks of the map because mixing the vegetation for variety was too much work.

He narrowed his eyes and between the rows of pine trees did he see a line of heavily armored men. They all wore the identical steel armor, marched like a proper battalion and were lead by two of the strongest female players in Aincrad.

"Look, it's Anna the Red and the Iron Maiden," Killer said. He could hear the two females players chatting—no, arguing. Their voices rung above the silence of the forest, above the sound of marching. What were they arguing about? From his own experience, Killer guessed that it might have something to do with Seinfield; his prison sentence created a power vacuum that needed to be filled.

Flat on his chest, Liemans crawled to a spot beside him and narrowed his eyes.

"What the hell is the ALS doing here," Liemans grumbled.

"Probably expanding their hunting grounds in preparation for the boss fight."

"Bastards."

All of the sudden, the tension had vanished and both men were focused on the new threat.

"They already occupied the areas around Ellensburgh, and now they…greedy bastards" Liemans spat and got up. Spiteful murmurs sounded from his men. "Men, we are leaving."

Killer continued to lie on the ground and for a moment, he felt Liemans's hateful glare on him.

"I'll see you," Liemans snarled.

Killer didn't reply. When he heard Liemans and his men march, did he let out a tremulous sigh of relief. His hands were shaking. "Heh," he laughed. Only now did his mind allow him to feel the cold hand of fear that made his gut writhe. He turned and lay on his back. Who knew that the ALS would save his life? Even though his level was above that of Liemans and his men and the armor and weapon Liemans possessed were of deplorably low quality, Killer was not strong enough to fight ten men on his own; he was strong but he was not a fool.

He knew when to and his ground and fight and when to suffer silently, and in such a situation, picking either choice would have lead to death.

* * *

Killer waited for another half an hour before he made his move. He moved gingerly, afraid that Liemans and his men had enough gumption to wait for the ALS to pass by and then attack him. But to his relief and surprise, Liemans and the men were indeed gone.

Killer continued the Hunt for the Mist Bird and it turned out to be a surprisingly easy quest that was that just aggravatingly time consuming. The Mist Bird turned out to be indeed a miniature version of the Mist Eagle. It matched the description written down in the booklet that the Iron Maiden gave out at the boss meeting; it's feathers were brilliant white and exuded a fog that made the exact shape of its body difficult to discern. It also flew swiftly above the treetops, making it almost impossible to track and beyond the reach of any sword. It was a quest designed for the throwing knife skill and as almost no one in Aincrad had trained this minor skill, this quest would have been impossible for most players.

It took Killer several tries, but eventually he managed to injure one of the Mist Bird's wings with his throwing knife and it tumbled to the ground. He caught it just in time and healed it with a potion. If he had let the bird fall to the ground and it died as a result, then the quest would have been permanently failed.

He returned to the poor part of Ellensburgh; the stone streets were sordid and narrow and the gutters stank with a nauseating stench. One could hear the constant quiet patter of the tiny feet of rats who were as large as cats. The quest starting point was an old woman who lived in a deplorable tiny wooden hut at the fringes of the Ellensburgh slums.

When he returned the Mist Bird, her old face lit with bright joy and she smiled a grateful toothless smile. She gave him enthused words of thanks, shook his hand and as there was no one around, Killer smiled sheepishly.

"I'm afraid there is little reward I can give you," the old woman said. "All m' children are gone an' my husband an' I had always been very poor even when he was alive..."

"That is all right," Killer said. "Really, you don't have to give anything to me. I just want to ask you a few questions."

"Well, you have come to the right person, young man. I'm the oldest person in Ellensburgh."

Killer did not doubt her; she was the oldest looking character model he had seen so far in Aincrad.

"Do you know anything about a bird called the Mist Eagle?"

Suddenly, the yellow NPC marker above her head turned from yellow to purple, indicating that something had been triggered by what Killer said.

"You must be speaking of the _Great Mist Eagle_...that is what we locals call him."

Killer waited for her to continue.

"Well...let me think..." She got her walking stick and with her slippers, shuffled into a different room of the house. There were the sounds of pots being thrown around and ruble collapsing, and eventually the old lady emerged from the room with a thick hardcover book. "My husband was always interested 'n these beasts, but I frankly had no interest in them. He was such an explorer—always in the Western Forests, always exploring some new area full of dangerous beasts. But I always stayed in the library. I loved to read books about the many stories of Ellensburgh and..."

She handed it to Killer the book and its ownership status changed. On its cover it had the title _The Great Beasts of Aincrad_ inscribed on it in cursive silver letters.

"Thank you," Killer nodded. "Truly, thank you. This book must mean a lot to you...I mean, something to remember him by..."

The old lady smiled ruefully and shook her head. "No, young man…I'm not interested in these old beasts, but I'm sure that he would have been glad that his work might be of some use to you young 'uns."

Killer put the book in his inventory and prepared to leave.

"Would you like some tea?" the old lady asked. "You look rather tired, young man."

Surprised by an NPC taking the initiative, Killer turned to her and he saw genuine concern in her old eyes. Was this part of her programming—to recognize a player's tiredness? His heart trembled with quiet emotion.

Killer glanced around. There were no other players nearby. He opened his menu and there were no messages.

"I'd love to, thank you."

* * *

In the evening, Killer walked up the stairs of the Golden Goose and barged into Charlotte's room. She sat at her desk in only underwear. She looked up from the newspaper that she was reading with a startled expression, as though she had just been pulled out of a dream.

"What are you reading?" Killer asked.

"It's the new newspaper that the Aincrad Liberation Squad is publishing daily," she said and put it on the table. "They call it the _Aincrad Liberation Post_." She flashed a cynical smile. "The Iron Maiden knows how to work the propaganda machine."

"I've got something else for you to read." Killed dumped the hardcover book on her desk with a heavy thumping sound.

* * *

And this is chapter 10! Please do drop a review if you liked it :)


	12. The Great Beasts of Aincrad

**Chapter 11**

 **The Great Beasts of Aincrad**

Charlotte wiped the dust off the cover and felt the silver letters. " _The Great Beasts of Aincrad_ ," she read out loud and smiled with anticipation. She had expected a scroll or perhaps a booklet—not such a thick volume and with such a title.

She opened the book and the scent of old pages filled the air. The spine of the great volume groaned and the brown paper crinkled.

"What a fine book," Charlotte remarked and gingerly felt the old pages, as though she were stroking the forehead of a small child.

She flipped the pages and her eyes darted from left to right, right to left, reading the lines of random pages at lightning speed. Her expression was a blank. Killer stood before her desk, awaiting her assessment.

"This is amazing," she commented after a few minutes. "This book contains information on mobs that aren't even found on this floor."

She gestured for Killer to come closer. "Here look," she pointed to a pencil illustration of a man in armor at the top right hand corner of the page. Next to it, the entry was entitled _The King of Aincrad_.

"What do you think this?" she asked, but continued before Killer could answer. "Maybe this is the boss that is found on the top floor? The one hundredth floor?"

"Maybe," Killer said. "But I doubt that a king would reside inside the dungeons of Aincrad. Maybe this is a clue for a quest that might have something to do with the King of Aincrad."

"Mhmm," Charlotte murmured and nodded. "That is possible."

She continued to flip through the old brown pages until she found an entry entitled _The Mist Eagle._

"There we go." She bit her lower lip and grinned. The illustration accompanying the text was carefully drawn in black ink rather than sketched in pencil like the King of Aincrad; there were tiny individual feathers, ink dots to represent the mist and its wing span was so great that it reached the edge of the page.

Killer and Charlotte leaned down to read the entry.

* * *

 _The Great Mist Eagle_

 _What a great bird! What a bird! I have never seen anything like it._

 _It was hard travel—countless days and nights in the dungeon, lost and desperate, and only the thoughts of Anya kept me alive. There were many times when I almost died, but the glimpse I caught of the majestic Great Mist Eagle made every brush with death a fair price._

 _But I feel sorry for this bird. It has such great wings and yet it is confined to the chamber inside this dungeon. This great beast ought to soar the skies, to cover the sun with its wings and whip up the wind._

 _Perhaps that is why it attacked me when I entered the chamber. It must be a man who trapped this great bird inside this chamber. I believe only man is capable of such cruelty._

 _I tried to fight back with my sword, but the eagle was smart. It would fly high above me and create great gusts of wind by flapping its wings. And when it blew me down, it would dive from its great heights and try to skewer me with its beak. But after every failed attack, it would always struggle to fly again, so I managed to escaped from its chamber with many wounds...but I could never forget about its beauty. My heart pounded like the first time I met Anya._

 _I want to see the Great Mist Eagle again. But I don't think I will. My body has felt so tired as of late..._

* * *

The entry ended there and Killer and Charlotte both looked at each other with triumph in their eyes. This entry gave detailed information on the Mist Eagle's attack patterns and even when it would be in delay and allow for counterattacks with swords.

Charlotte shut the book and took a deep breath. "Killer," she breathed out. "Have you told anyone else of this book?"

Killer shook his head.

"Good," she nodded. "With the way the ALS is right now, they will demand that we surrender all the information in this book for the sake of liberation or whatever they say it is." She patted the pages. "This information is worth more than all the col in Aincrad. With this, we can gain advantages on the upper floors and if we release information from it bit by bit, then we can always demand to be part of the boss fights."

"Understood," Killer simply said. Charlotte didn't need to explain more. It was easy to imagine members of the ALS marching in on the third floor and demanding that Charlotte give up this book—for nothing in return of course. And in Aincrad, perhaps the only thing that was more valuable than a good sword and strong armor was information. Information was power. Information saved lives.

"All right, now leave me." Charlotte said curtly and waved him away. "I'll need to make arrangements with the ALS."

Her attention went to her holographic screen and instantly Killer felt insignificant and unimportant; he was suddenly outside her field of attention.

What a mercurial woman, Killer thought and left the inn.

* * *

 _Three days later_

A fifty man raid stood before the doors of the chamber that belonged to the Mist Eagle. Twenty of these players were ALS members. Ten were from the Dragon Knights guild, two were solo players (Kirito and Asuna) and the rest were members of various smaller guilds. The members of the ALS were all dressed uniformly in steel armor with red capes, with only their leaders the Iron Maiden and Anna the Red wearing something different.

The Iron Maiden wore her heavy leather coast with metal plates and a metal plated skirt, while Anna the Red stood out with her signature red scarf.

The other guilds had no dress code and thus the other thirty players that completed the raid wore a variety of different armor and weapons.

Charlotte stood out with her black leather corset armor; the many male players could not keep their eyes off her, but she pretended not to notice their attention. Her eyes were intently set on the Iron Maiden.

"All right!" the Iron Maiden spoke and her voice echoed off the walls of the dungeon. "As per the agreement between guilds, the Aincrad Liberation Squad has discovered the boss room first and thus I will lead the boss raid."

The ALS players let out a cheer; the rest of the players stayed sullenly silent.

She continued. "This is it! Like I said before: this will be the first airborne boss that we have had to face! I want everyone to fight with extreme caution. Deaths are unacceptable."

Again, the ALS players cheered. Some of the other players raised their swords in agreement.

"I have sent out a message before, but I want to repeat the information before we go in: the Mist Eagle utilizes a wind area attack that is designed to push you to the ground. If you lose your balance, then the Mist Eagle will most likely attack you. If the wind proves too strong for us, then we will retreat and reconsider our strategy.

"Now, teams A to E will be responsible for attacking the Mist Eagle. During the first delay after the area attack, team A, B and C will attack the Mist Eagle. During the second delay, teams D and E will attack the Mist Eagle and we will continue with this rotation pattern until the Mist Eagle's attack pattern changes."

She pointed her sword at Charlotte and her men. "This intel is provided by the Charlotte guild; they are small and new to the front line, but they have proven their worth by supplying us with this important information. As a reward, they will form team F with the solo players and will be responsible for taking out the smaller mobs that will harass the main teams."

Killer took an infuriated sharp breath. Although he did not particularly care about the boss fight, it was humiliating to be pushed to mob duty after supplying the most important piece of information that formed the strategy for this boss fight.

Liemans stepped forward, his chest heaving with outrage. "Wait a minute!" he bellowed. "Why should we have to deal with the skimpy mobs? We are the ones who gave you the information about the Mist Eagle!"

"And your contribution has been acknowledged," the Iron Maiden said with a cool and even voice. Her gaze was stoic as she measured Liemans. "Allowing you inside the boss chamber for minor duties is an adequate reward for an inexperienced guild which has never been involved in a boss fight. Perhaps in the future you will be allowed to join the main force."

Liemans was about to roar, but Charlotte jabbed him in the sides with her elbow and shot him an irritated glare. "Shut up," she growled.

Liemans cowered together like a beaten dog.

"Now, are there any other questions?" the Iron Maiden asked.

Asuna raised her hand. "Where is Seinfield? He has been present at every boss fight since the fifth floor."

Killer's eyes fell on the Iron Maiden, together with the eyes of every other player in the raid group. The ALS had never given an explanation for Seinfield's disappearance. It was rather strange for such an important player to vanish and rumors had already begun to spread; Seinfield was dead or perhaps he had lost in a power struggle with the Iron Maiden and Anna the Red.

Killer knew where Seinfield was—behind bars in Black Iron Prison on the first floor—but he was curious as to what excuse the top leadership of the ALS could conjure up.

"Seinfield has taken leave," the Iron Maiden said. "He was exhausted from constant combat and is resting to regain his strength."

Killer snorted with derision, but he was impressed by how smoothly she managed to tell this lie—there was no hesitation in her voice, no suspicious movement of the eyes, no obvious determined squareness in her shoulders that were overly wanted to prove the truth.

Suddenly, he felt someone's gaze on him. At first he thought that it might be Liemans, but he was too busy directing his hate filled eyes at the Iron Maiden. Killer cast his gaze about and made eye contact with Anna the Red. Her expression was blank, but she stared at him intently, her beseeching eyes boring into him, as though she were asking him something...or trying to tell him something urgently.

Killer raised a curious eyebrow. What did she want from him? The last time he met her, it was in the Western Forest and she had almost killed him.

"Men! Women! After me!" The Iron Maiden commanding voice rung strong and true, making the men forget for just a short moment of how afraid they were. It was the quality of a good leader and she knew it.

She pushed the door open. The other players followed.

Killer, Charlotte and her men were at the rear together with the only two solo players in this raid, Kirito and Asuna. When they entered the chamber of the Mist Eagle, did Charlotte come to a stop.

"Mother of Aincrad," she breathed.

* * *

And this is chapter 11! Thank you for reading :)


	13. Mother of Aincrad

**Chapter 12**

 **Mother of Aincrad**

 _Mother of Aincrad._

It was a phrase that would be uttered far and across Aincrad. Players would cry it out in moments of hopeless despair and exultant triumph. Nobody would quite know where this phrase had come from; it was just something that players had started saying around the twelfth floor or so.

But Killer would always know where he had heard it first.

"Mother of Aincrad," Charlotte breathed as she stared up with wonder at the Mist Eagle.

The Mist Eagle perched on a chandelier that hung from the roof of the boss chamber. The chandelier was decorated with white crystals, emeralds and rubies, sparkling bewitchingly in the candle light that illuminated the chamber. The Mist Eagle spread its majestic white wings and let out a deafening cry. This was a king on his throne and he was ready to defend it.

Every player was mesmerized by the bird's beauty; it was without a doubt a winsome boss. The spread out wings were wider than six men with their arms spread out. It's feathers were pure white and every single feather exuded a mist that almost appeared like snow. The eagle strut out his chest as it spread its wings; it had the dignity of a king and every player felt that this was a boss monster that ought to be revered and honored rather than killed. It had a sharp black beak that was undoubtedly used for its dive attacks.

But one player was not gawking at this eagle for his heart had already been taken by another beauty. Killer noticed that Liemans had his eyes on Charlotte. Standing several steps from her, his eyes were filled with devotion and admiration.

Killer shook his head. Only a man who loved a woman to distraction could ignore the magnificence of the Mist Eagle. And yet Charlotte would not give him a second glance. He was hers to command and in her cruel nature, she took his affection for granted and scarcely noticed it.

"Teams A, B and C attack!" The Iron Maiden's commanding voice ripped the players out of their mesmerization. There was a moment of hesitation—did they really have to kill such a beautiful creature? Was there no other way to get to the eleventh floor?

And even as they asked themselves these naive questions did they know the answer: the door to the eleventh floor would not open unless the Mist Eagle was dead; that was the way the code was written and thus it was an unbreakable law.

Teams A, B, C cried out in unison and stormed the boss chamber. Each team has its own leader, but it was a general who commanded all three teams. Anna the Red lead the teams A, B and C into the fight, her red scarf acting like a banner for her men to follow. The Iron Maiden stayed behind and supervised the situation, teams D and E behind her.

The Mist Eagle cried out again and began to flap its wings. A strong gust of wind surrounded the attacking players.

"It's launching into its wind area attack!" Anna cried out. "Tanks to the front! Damage deals stay back and be ready to switch!"

As soon as the first three teams made their way into the heart of the chamber, did the Mist Eagle's servants appear. Sparrows the size of furniture materialized, their black beaks gleaming ominously in the candle light.

"Team F!" the Iron Maiden bellowed. "At the ready! Attack the mobs!"

Killer gripped his blade tightly. His heart beat so hard that it felt as though it might burst. His breath was trembling, his legs quivered. What was this sensation? Fear? No. He grinned. Somehow, for the first time in a long time, he felt excited.

"Let's go!" Liemans cried.

Team F consisted of only seven players. Charlotte's guild only had five players who met the levels required for the boss fight and that included Liemans, Charlotte, Killer and two other men under Liemans's command. The other two players were the solo players Kirito and Asuna.

There were a total of four sparrow mobs that had to be dealt with. This meant that a players could deal with the first three mobs in pairs while a lone player had to take on the first one.

"Killer! You come with me!" Liemans said.

Killer gritted his teeth. What was Liemans trying to do? "What about Charlotte?"

"Hah!" Liemans laughed and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Don't you worry about her!"

Killer made eye contact with Charlotte and she gave him a confident nod. Killer grimaced. He wasn't so much worried about Charlotte as he was about himself; he simply didn't want to fight together with someone who had tried to kill him several times. The irony of the situation was tempting fate.

Killer let out a lethargic breath and followed Liemans into battle. He prayed that there would be no major incidents.

To his utter surprise, fighting together with Liemans went smoother than he had expected. They took turns fighting the large sparrow and switched out at the right moments in order to deal higher damage. The other members of Charlotte also worked together efficiently—but it was Charlotte, Kirito and Asuna who were in a different league.

Liemans had been right Charlotte. She didn't need anyone's help. She used Sword Skills to parry the sparrow's attacks and while she was in Sword Skill cooldown delay, she used manual attacks that did not rely on system assisted accuracy and strength.

Killer was momentarily struck by the beauty of her fighting style. Her movements were bold and yet had uncanny precision—as though she had practiced for years. She was bullish and relied on brute force for her manual attacks, but there was undeniable grace in her nimble movements as she dodged the sparrow's attacks by a hair.

He turned to look at the boss fight. Anna the Red and her three teams had managed to hold on for about ten minutes, and although they had plenty of tanks, the members of teams A, B and C had still taken significant damage. With every wind area attack, a few players fell and the Mist Eagle swooped down to attack. The tank players defended, but their armor offered little resistance to its mighty wings and sharp beak. After every attack like that, the Mist Eagle stayed in delay for precious few seconds before it took flight, circled in the air about five times before it rested on its chandelier and attacked again.

"We can't hold on anymore!" Anna the Red turned to the Iron Maiden. "Switch out! It will attack after five circles."

"Understood," the Iron Maiden nodded.

Teams A, B and C had just switched out and the Iron Maiden was leading Teams D and E into the fight. Like Anna the Red, the Iron Maiden was at the front. And although she wore a heavy leather mantle with protective metal sheet stitched on, it did not seem to affect her speed in the least. With a sword in one hand and a small kite shield in the other, she led the two groups into the range of the Mist Eagle.

The Mist Eagle was in the last of its five circles. It returned to its chandelier.

"At the ready!" she yelled. "The Mist Eagle will launch its wind attack and then will come down onto us with its beak and wings! Anyone who is knocked down by the wind will receive damage. For the next ten minutes, there will be no time to switch out! Stand your ground."

The message was clear. There was no chance to retreat. Team A, B and C would take another five minutes to recover.

Killer was impressed by her leadership. Even in the face of the first airborne boss in the game, the Iron Maiden did not let trepidation slip into her voice. She spoke loud and clear, her voice banishing the fear that every man instinctively felt when confronting a majestic creature that was so much larger than he.

The Iron Maiden did not disappoint during combat. Her Sword Skills were well timed and she knew all the cooldown periods by heart, allowing her to retreat for the appropriate amount of time. She used her kite shield to block the wind and even in the face of such an unfamiliar area attack, she instinctively leaned into the wind and used the additional weight of her leather coat to her advantage.

With such precise attacks and her observations from watching how Teams A, B and C took damage, teams D and E managed to take down the mighty beasts HP bar to its last health bar.

"Teams D and E, take your positions!" Following the Iron Maiden's orders the players who were pushed back by the wind returned to their original positions. The Mist Eagle circled overhead like a king observing his territory. "He is down to his last bar of health! He will land on the chandelier and launch his wind attack again after two more rounds of circling," the Iron Maiden cried. "Make sure you are ready!"

The Mist Eagle did land on his throne and it did launch its wind attack. Teams D and E resisted the wind admirably and no player fell to the ground. But the Mist Eagle did not fall into delay and come down from his high throne like he always did.

The Mist Eagle launched from its chandelier and in a dive attack, targeting every player who was within range of its wingspan. It was completely unexpected—a deviation from its previous attack pattern. The Iron Maiden's men have become careless. Its great wings dealt damage to everyone on team D and E, taking out more than half of every man's HP. But there was one man who was pierced by the beak of the eagle. His HP drained into the red area and it kept draining until there was nothing left and he his body dissolved into a thousand sharps.

It was clear; now that the Mist Eagle was down to his last bar of health, he was going to show no mercy to his revolutionary subjects.

"He died!"

"Browne just died!"

"Shit! Retreat! Retreat!"

The Iron Maiden stood, her jaw set, her eyes unwavering. She was impervious to the rising panic. "Men! Calm your nerves! Do not forget that we have survived worse than this!"

She then turned to Anna the Red. "Switch out!"

"We are not ready yet!"

She gulped. She stood frozen, hiding her trembling emotions from the men who looked up at her for orders. For contingencies such as this, she had always planned to switch out with the second main fighting force. Her eyes cast about for a solution and her eyes fell on Liemans and Charlotte.

"Teams D and E, retreat!" she ordered. "Team F, switch out!"

For a moment Killer thought that he would get to rest—his HP was down to half a bar at this point and precariously close to the orange area. The Iron Maiden pointed at the Mist Eagle who was making his circles up above again.

"Are you insane!" Killer shouted. "We are the support team! We can't take on the boss!"

"This is an ORDER!" The Iron Maiden strode over and grabbed him by his throat. Her eyes were burning with desperate obstinacy. "You will go and you will fight! Stand your ground until teams A to E can recover properly."

Charlotte grabbed the Iron Maiden's hand and forced her to let go. "I apologize for his impudence," she said, her voice calm and steady. "Do not worry Iron Maiden, we will successfully carry out your order."

Charlotte and the Iron Maiden exchanged silent stares. The Iron Maiden nodded. "The Mist Eagle will attack again after five more rounds of circling. Be ready by then."

"Understood."

The Iron Maiden walked away.

"This is insane," Killer said again, this time turning to Charlotte. "We are only seven players and we still have to take care of the mobs. There is no way— "

Charlotte slapped Killer hard. He stumbled back, holding his cheek, stunned.

"Hold your tongue. I am the leader of Team F and you will follow my orders," she said. She turned to Liemans. "Liemans, you take your two men and Killer and attack the Mist Eagle. Kirito, Asuna and I will stay back and take care of the mobs."

Liemans bowled slightly. "Yes, ma'am. Understood."

Liemans grabbed Killer by his shoulder and pulled him away from the mobs. "Don't worry now," he grinned. "We are all real men, aren't we? Let's show Charlotte that we won't die so easily."

There was an unexpected affability to his voice, as though he and Killer were brothers in arms. At first Killer was surprised, but he then realized that in this moment, he and Liemans were indeed brothers in arms. Their impossible orders had been given by both the Iron Maiden and Charlotte, and as capable fighters, they must now somehow hold back the Mist Eagle for ten minutes.

"All right." Killer let out a sharp breath and smiled at the irony of the situation. Liemans had been trying to kill him so many times, and yet in this moment, their lives depended on each other. It was only in this boss chamber that Liemans would not be after his life. It was only in this boss chamber, the most dangerous place in Aincrad, that Killer could be safe.

Together with Liemans and his two men, Killer faced the Mist Eagle. His heart beat rapidly. Every bone, every muscle in his body told him to abandon post and flee. He had survived to this day because he instinctively knew when a fight could be won and when it was lost. And when he knew he would lose, he cut his looses. But never before had he received explicit orders to disobey this instinct.

He stood his ground and fought.

Liemans proved to be a reliable partner; with his heavy armor and shield, he acted as tank and managed to block the attacks that the Mist Eagle launched after carrying out an unsuccessful wind area attack. And once the Mist Eagle was down on the ground and preparing to fly again, did Killer switch out with Liemans and deal damage with his Spring Break and Guardian Fist.

It was a fragile situation that could fall apart with a single misstep, a thread that could snap at any time. From the corner of his eyes, Killer observed the HP bars of his temporary brothers in arms; all of their HP bars hovered around the halfway point. One serious hit could mean instant death. And even if they took smaller amounts of damage, there was no other team to switch out with. They were on their own.

During the fight, no one said so much as a word beyond the occasional 'Switch'. The minds of all four were entirely focused on the Mist Eagle, knowing that there was no backup for pot rotation.

"Switch!" Killer cried and Liemans jumped to the front. Killer took this moment to catch his breath. He had received a little damage, but nothing too significant. Five minutes had already gone by like this and they only had to hold out for another five.

His eyes fell on the other two men and they seemed to be doing all right. Their HP was in the orange area, but so far, all of them had been able to avoid a serious hit. No one was blown down by the wind. That would be a death sentence.

"Team F! Switch out in one minute!" It was Anna the Red. "Fifty seconds until healing is complete!"

"Understood!" Liemans shouted back.

"One minute," Killer scoffed. Team F was close to the breaking point. It was a miracle that they had managed to last this long. Killer peered up at the Mist Eagle and it was perched on the chandelier. It will launch the wind area attack next. But something did not look right. The Mist Eagle spread its wings like it always did, but this time its wings were glowing. With an ear splitting cry, it flapped its wings and a powerful gust of wind hit Killer, Liemans and his two men. But it wasn't just the wind this time; true to its name, its glowing wings scattered a thick haze that split the boss room into two.

"Team F! Where are you? I can't see you!" Anna the Red cried.

Killer turned left and right. Where was her voice coming from? The turbid veil of the mist had blocked his vision. He couldn't see Charlotte or the two solo players she was fighting with. He could only scarcely make out the outlines of the two men under Liemans's command. He breathed deeply to calm the panic crawling on his skin. He could taste the humidity of the fog, the scent of the Mist Eagle. All around him, the wind howled, threatening to push him over.

Suddenly, he felt an unnatural chill on his back. His instincts told him to run. He turned around and saw Liemans.

Liemans did not return Anna's call. There was a mad glimmer in his eyes.

"The wind is rather strong, isn't it?" Liemans said.

Killer did not reply.

"And you are lightly armored, aren't you? It would be so easy for you to be blown away by the wind."

In a flash, Liemans dropped his shield and blade, grabbed Killer with bone crushing strength and threw him to the ground. He quickly jumped back.

Killer's eyes were wide open. He had not expected for Liemans to move with a swiftness that contradicted his burly body. So stunned was he that he did not notice the stabbing pain in his shoulder.

Their gazes met. There was grim satisfaction on Liemans's face.

"Good bye, Killer."

The Mist Eagle launched from its chandelier throne and descended to attack. Its gleaming beak was aimed at the only player who had fallen to the ground.


	14. The Eleventh Floor

**Chapter 13**

Killer had stared death in the face many times before. Most of the time, there was money involved; and out of all those times, he needed that money badly. But no matter how precarious the situation got, there was always a way out. A knife could be parried, a bullet could be dodged, fury could be soothed and cajoled—but never before did he face something like the Mist Eagle.

Liemans had retreated and Killer lay on the ground. The Mist Eagle descended from its throne, its black beak gleaming and its breathtaking wings spreading a carpet of shiny mist.

Killer couldn't see a way out. Even if he dodged the beak, he would get hit by the width of the eagle's wings. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but his HP bar was in the orange area and a single hit would finish him. The easiest thing to do now would be to lie on the ground and wait for the inevitable.

He gripped his Spring Break tightly and got up with a groan. Even in this desperate moment, did he think that the Mist Eagle was beautiful. It was such a shame that this creature had to die.

"Heh," he frowned. The first time he got so close to death in Aincrad, Charlotte had jumped in to save him. He was prepared to die then—but there was no one to save him now.

He thought of Lily again. Was she eating properly? Would she make sure to dry her hair after she showered? Would she have the discipline to sleep before midnight?

"I can't die here," he murmured. There was still too much to do.

He faced the Mist Eagle with a determined squareness in his shoulders that did not belong to a man prepared to die. There was a cynicism in his eyes, a sneer on his lips that wanted to tell the world to go to hell. He knew that his light armor and Spring Break would not be able to hold the eagle back. He was weary and bitter, but he stood.

"What are you doing, you fool?"

It was a woman's voice.

There was a gust of a wind—a wind stronger than that of the Mist Eagle. It grabbed him by his arms and pulled him into the air. Below his feet, he could see the Mist Eagle pass, its back glistening brilliantly. From above, its wingspan appeared even more beautiful, more majestic than from below.

He looked to his side and saw Anna the Red. He red scarf and blonde hair were in a disheveled state, her blue eyes focused intently on the Mist Eagle.

"Were you ready to die, you fool?" she said. "There is more than one way to dodge besides left and right."

"Up," Killer mouthed, dumbfounded.

"Yes," she laughed. "You are always looking down. Never forget to look up."

Her laugh was vivacious and full of joy, as though she were enjoying this boss fight—like Charlotte.

The Mist Eagle passed by and they landed on the ground, back to earth, back to where mortals stood.

Anna the Red did not waste a single moment. "Team F retreat!" She shot Liemans a glare, but did not address him. She turned her attention to her own teams. "Team A, B and C, switch out with Team F!"

Dazed, Killer went to the side of the boss chamber. Team A, B and C took on the Mist Eagle, while the Iron Maiden and her two teams switched out with Charlotte, Kirito and Asuna to take on the mobs.

The Mist Eagle was down to half of its last HP bar and it fought without mercy. It stopped circling in the air and instead launched one wind area attack after the other. And when it swooped down with its wings, its delay time on the ground was shortened, giving Anna's men less time to attack.

For the last half of the HP bar, every point of damage was a hard and bitter fight. The players and the Mist Eagle fought an eye for an eye, tooth for tooth, exchanging blows savagely.

Perhaps the Mist Eagle knew that it was doomed and hence it fought with crazed recklessness. It did not defend itself and did not keep its distance. It attacked ferociously and with very few delays. It was taking its last stand.

After fifteen minutes of hard battle, the Mist Eagle let out a last chilling cry, and it dissolved into a thousands virtual glass shards.

A polite female voice sounded in the boss chamber.

"Congratulations. The tenth floor has been cleared."

* * *

Five people climbed the stairs to the eleventh floor.

Anna the Red.

Killer.

Charlotte.

Kirito.

Asuna.

The atmosphere was muted. Anna the Red and the Iron Maiden were not particularly happy with the result of this boss fight. One man had died—the first boss fight causality since the first floor. News of his death would reach the general player population together with the opening of the new floor. The leadership of the ALS was uncertain of how the public would react; would they celebrate the advancement into uncharted territory or would they fall into despair? Would this victory encourage mid-level players to venture forth, or would it cause more to pull back to the Town of Beginnings?

"So how did you find your first boss fight? Exciting wasn't it?" Charlotte asked. Out of the five, she was the only one who appeared to be a good mood.

"I almost died." Killer looked at her oddly. It seemed that she knew nothing of Liemans's actions. _Should I tell her?_

"And that is what makes life worth living." She winked and patted him on the shoulder.

She turned her attention to Kirito and Asuna, who were having a discussion of their own.

 _How odd_ , Killer thought. During the boss fight, she had chosen to stay behind with Kirito and Asuna to deal with the mobs rather than fight the Mist Eagle. And after the boss fight, she had stayed with Kirito and Asuna rather than talking to Liemans and her men. And now while climbing the stairs, she was talking to them again. As far as Killer knew, Kirito and Asuna were both solo players and not part of any guild. What did Charlotte hope to achieve by talking to them?

Ignoring Charlotte, he caught up to Anna who was several steps ahead.

"Thank you saving me out there."

Anna turned her head, her expression somber but she managed a slight smile. "It is my duty as part of the ALS to make sure that there are no casualties."

She had failed her duty.

"Tell me, what's your name?" Killer asked. "Your full player name?"

"Why do you want know?"

"I just want to know the name of the person who saved me." Killer shrugged.

Her doleful expression vanished and she smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry, but it wasn't just me who saved you."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't see any of you in the haze, but it was the Iron Maiden who saw you getting thrown to the ground. She has the best eyes out of all of us."

"The Iron Maiden?"

"Yes, but— " Anna began, but then stopped. She averted her eyes and uneasy guilt was written plain as day on her face.

"But what?"

"She didn't want to save you, so she told me to do it. I'm sorry."

Killer was stunned for a moment. He did not know what to say. But then his lips twisted into a cynical smile. "There is no need to apologize. She simply calculated that I wasn't worth the risk—after all, both of you are important leaders of the front line while I am just a single player. It's the quality of a good leader to know when to cut her looses."

"That's—!" Anna began, but she did not know what else to say. His words rung with callous truth.

"So, what is your name?" Killer asked.

"Anna...just Anna."

Killer opened his menu window and added her to his friends list. A request appeared before her and she touched the _Affirmative_ button.

"I will look forward to your message...Killer."

After a few more minutes, they reached the top of the stairs. They found a stone door with the engraving of a witch hat on the right and a wolf on the left.

Anna pushed the door open.

"Let's go, Killer." Charlotte gave him a gentle push. She then added in a whisper: "We will set civil war in motion on this floor."

* * *

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